


Until You Return to Me

by BatMads



Series: Until You Return to Me [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bad pick-up lines happen, Banquet part 2, F/F, Gayrentals: Gay friends who are your parents, M/M, POV Katsuki Yuuri, POV Victor Nikiforov, POV Yuri Plisetsky, Possibly the slowest burn ever, Romantic walks in St. Petersburg happen, Slow Burn, Yakov is done with everyone, Yuri and Yuuri are the ultimate BroTP, Yuri pole-dancing backstory, Yuri's gay college friends, angst but in a sweet way, but Yuri is sober this time, calm down now kids, in which we are Yurio and Yurio is us, it's a happy ending now I promise, you're going to suffer but you're going to be happy about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-09-23 13:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 78
Words: 113,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9660182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatMads/pseuds/BatMads
Summary: Yuuri and Victor are in St. Petersburg together at last, but when Yuuri has difficulty adjusting to the transition and tragedy strikes, it seems as though they may be separated forever. Now they struggle to find their way back to each other when the universe seems to conspire against a happy ending. Comes in 6 parts (and an epilogue). Will be updated regularly!





	1. Loss: Chapter 1

## 

Part One: Loss

St. Petersburg, Yuri thought, was very different from home. It was a beautiful city, sure, but it wasn’t Hasetsu. It lacked the calm and familiarity. There weren’t the same hot springs, Katsudon bowls, ballet studio to go to when Yuri wanted to practice or think, or even the same rink. 

Back home, whenever he had wanted to skate, Yuri had just…run to the Ice Palace. And that was that. If the ice was free, Yuuko-chan would let him have it, and if it wasn’t, he’d practice in the middle of the rink, made invisible by familiarity with the other skaters or warm up alone until he could have the ice to himself. The same held true when Victor came along. It was always just the two of them and whenever Yuri practiced, Victor focused entirely on him. No one butting in to make him self-conscious of the little mistakes he made during practice. No one putting any pressure on him to be the best. 

The rink in St. Petersburg was different in every way possible. He had trained on a rink before, with other skaters, back in Detroit, but he had been friends with them. They had spent years honing their skills for each other. Yuri held a mutual respect with the other skaters that came only from years of suffering and failing and practicing and finally succeeding together. They had become a close knit group and when Yuri had failed in practice then, they had cheered him on, pulled him to his feet, helped him figure it out countless times and he had done the same for them. 

The same connection was clearly present among the skaters from the St. Petersburg rink, the only difference was, this time Yuri was completely shut out of it. People didn’t help him out when he slipped; they stared. They asked questions about Victor. A few of them had a tendency to slam into him when he was warming up, only to claim it had been an accident. It was a difficult adjustment, and it wasn’t going well for Yuri. He’d lost his comfort on the ice. It was like if he was no better than a novice, a fact that Yurio liked to point out every time he could. 

“Yuri!” 

Yuri glanced up at Victor’s voice. His silver hair was easy to pick out along the edge of the rink and, heart sinking, Yuri skated over to him. He had flubbed his last jump; he knew it and now Victor was— 

“Something’s on your mind.” 

“What?” 

“You always mess up your jumps when something is on your mind. Haven’t I already told you that?” 

Numb, Yuri nodded. 

“So what is it?” 

Yuri looked away, chewing his lip, and watched the other skaters on the ice as they went around, executed perfect jumps. What was on his mind? He didn’t belong here, that was what, but how could he ever tell that to Victor? 

“I don’t know,” he said instead, turning back to Victor with a shrug. “I was just skating.” 

“Hmm.” Victor’s aqua eyes searched his for a moment. “You really weren’t caught up on anything?" 

Yuri forced himself to smile. “Really. I think I’m just tired.” 

Victor smiled back, calm and beautiful. It wasn’t the smile he used when he was teasing Yurio or the one for when he was playing for a crowd. It was the smile he saved for just for Yuri, and with it, Yuri felt the unease and discomfort in his chest ease a little. 

“Okay,” Victor said. “Go home then if you are. Get some rest.” 

Yuri nodded shortly and started to turn away, but Victor grabbed his wrist before he could get too far. 

“Don’t think you’re off the hook though; I expect better tomorrow.” 

Yuri smiled and Victor kissed him quickly on the cheek before releasing Yuri’s wrist again. The Yuri went off and they were divided as skaters came around the bend, continuing on with their practice. 

OOO

Victor’s apartment was another big change from the Inn back in Hasetsu. Where the Inn had a worn down feeling that came with tides of visitors and the years it had been home to Yuri’s family, Victor’s apartment was sleek and industrial. It was coolly modern where the Inn had, at times, almost felt worn down under all its history. What Yuri couldn’t complain about, however, was the apartment’s location; straight across the park where the rink and a tremendous view of the park and the surrounding buildings was offered from every window. On quiet nights, Yuri and Victor went walking around the park, or around the neighborhood, which was in the heart of St. Petersburg. So far, that was Yuri’s favorite part of picking up and moving here to be with Victor: The quiet times they spent together when Yuri didn’t have to worry about skating or how much St. Petersburg was not yet home.  


Makkachin greeted him at the door and Yuri patted his head absentmindedly. The afternoon sunlight streamed in through the windows in the kitchen. It was late May now. He had been here since the end of the season in April. He had gotten past the jet lag fairly quickly, but not over the change in latitudes; Victor told him that in the winter there were days with hardly any sunshine at all, and in June there would be the White Nights, when everyone celebrated the near 24-hours of sunlight that graced the city.  


He glanced out the window again as he collapsed onto the couch, Makkachin clambering on top of him. It was hard to believe such tales of sunlight when the weather was like this. It was colder than home, sure, but it was still fair. It was still spring.  


Yuri closed his eyes tight and squeezed Makkachin. “I will belong here,” He promised himself. “I will fit in. I will succeed. I will. I will. _I will._ ”  


Makkachin took the opportunity and licked Yuri’s face until he opened his eyes. “What am I doing here, Makkachin? Why did I think I could do this?”  


The poodle panted happily back at him in reply.  


Yuri sighed and contented himself with stroking his hands through the dog’s curly fur, thoughts not really falling anywhere. He hadn’t really lied to Victor before; he really was tired and his body weighed down on him as a result. But stroking Makkachin was easy, and calming, and he didn’t need to think about that. He barely noticed himself drifting off, and he fell asleep with his hands still tangled in Makkachin’s fur, savoring the warmth of the dog and the quiet companionship he provided.


	2. Loss: Chapter 2

The rap of Victor’s knuckles on his head woke Yuri up. Blinking his eyes open, he stretched his arms up and started to pull himself into a sitting position. Makkachin whined a little at being disturbed, but hopped down after a second with a betrayed look. He sniffed lightly at Victor then padded softly away. Yuri eyes tracked the bemused expression on Victor’s face.  


“It seems,” Victor said lightly, “that you’ve stolen Makkachin’s heart from me. Really, Yuri, you must stop being so lovable or there’s going to be no one left to love me.”  


Yuri snagged Victor’s hand from where it dangled at his side. “I love you.”  


Victor flashed a small smile. “I love you too,” he said gently.  


“What time is it?” Yuri asked after a moment. He pulled himself up a little farther, trying to make room on the couch for Victor to collapse besides him. “I didn’t realize that I had fallen asleep.”  


Victor’s smile grew. “Seven thirty or so. I just got home. Are you hungry? I can make you something if you’d like.”  


Yuri smiled. He had come to love Victor’s cooking too, and the quiet efficiency his fiancé had in the kitchen. “That’d be nice.”  


Victor slipped off and Yuri listened to him for a moment, the clatter of pans on the metal counter tops, the hiss of the burner starting. Beautiful. That was the word that described everything Victor did and owned and encompassed: beautiful, in the same, sleek refined way. In moments like these, however, when the pots were being clunky and the rhythm of the knife wasn’t quite exact, Victor could almost be human. Beautiful in the same way Yuri was, if Yuri could be called beautiful at all. The memory came, unbidden, of his first encounter with Victor last year. Little piggy.  


Yuri pulled himself to his feet and tried to shake the memory aside. He was here now. Victor loved him, despite any of his flubs and shortcomings, and this year, they were going to win gold together.  


It was such a neat little mantra. Almost like a shopping list in its succinct nature. He was here. Victor loved him. This year, he would win gold at the Grand Prix final.  


Yuri tried not to factor in how poorly he’d been doing in practice. The fact that this year, he would have to compete with Victor as well as Yurio, and both of them skated with the same technical perfection that Yuri so rarely achieved in competition. But he would do it. Because he had to. Because that was the plan. That was the mantra.  


He cast the forbidding thoughts from his head as he padded into the kitchen and snaked his arms around Victor’s waist. He opened his mouth to say something, but his mind fell short on words. How was practice? No, that was too common, and Victor demanded the uncommon. Something about himself? No, that would lead to disaster.  


“What are you making us?” He settled for instead. He liked the way the words muted themselves against Victor’s sweater. He liked it even better when he felt the rumble of Victor’s laugh through his ribs, liked it when Victor turned around and leaned against the counter and wrapped his arms around Yuri, tucked his chin over Yuri’s head and just held onto him.  


This was another one of the few things Yuri liked about St. Petersburg: the simple pleasure of just being held by the man he loved.  


“Something good,” Victor replied, pressing a kiss to Yuri’s temple. “You’ll like it; I promise.”  


“You say that every time,” Yuri mumbled. He was in grave danger of falling asleep again, right here in Victor’s arms. St. Petersburg was so wearing on him.  


“And have I been wrong yet?” Victor asked.  


Yuri didn’t reply, but he smiled. He liked everything Victor made him. It was never a katsudon bowl, but it was still good. And it was all made better by the fact that Victor had made it just for him, Yuri, so the two of them could share a meal together. It was almost enough sometimes to convince Yuri that he would like St. Petersburg one day. That one day this apartment would actually be his, and not just Victor’s. That one day, he could call this place home.  


He pulled away after a long moment. Later. He could fall asleep in Victor’s arms later, after Victor had made him something wonderful and they had washed and dried the dishes together. Later, when Victor had put on a movie or they had crawled into bed together.  


“I’ll set the table,” He muttered. He crossed the kitchen and opened up the cabinet with the dishes, where neat white plates were lined up next to sturdy wooden bowls. In the next cabinet, tall, straight glasses accented only by long ridges running up their sides stood like soldiers. In the drawer below them, Yuri knew, were the slate grey placemats and the identical spoons and forks and knives. Behind him, Victor had returned to cooking.  


“Is this a plate dinner or a bowl dinner?” Yuri asked,  


“Hmm. Plate. I’ll make a bowl-something tomorrow.”  


Yuri set the table, everything straight and even and right and Victor continued to cook. It was a small table, pushed against one side of the Island. Victor always sat with this back to the windows, his focus on Yuri, and Yuri always sat around the corner from him; he liked to glance out the window that looked over the park while he ate. When he was finished with the table, Yuri perched on the edge of the island, away from the burners, and watched as Victor moved about. Every now and then, Yuri offered to cook Victor something, but he still felt alien in this neat, utilitarian kitchen, and something always ended up a little overcooked.  


Victor glanced up at him over the boiling pot. “What are you thinking?”  


Yuri smiled. “That I like watching you cook.”  


“Other than that.”  


Yuri looked around, at the short hallway that led to the bathroom and their bedroom, at the low couch that Makkachin had returned to, at the tall black bookshelves where neat straight novels stood up next to pictures of Victor in foreign cities, sometimes posing with friends, sometimes with Makkachin, sometimes alone. A few had been added of Victor and Yuri, but there weren’t a lot yet. They were still breaking this life in, after all.  


“That this is nice,” he said quietly.  


Victor hummed in agreement and turned back to his cooking.  


“What are you thinking?” Yuri blurted.  


Victor glanced back up at him and stepped away from the pot, rested his hands on Yuri’s knees. “I’m thinking…that I like the feeling of you watching me cook. I’m think that this is nice too.”  


Yuri smiled, even as he could feel the blush burning his cheeks and Victor smiled back. Kissed him. Turned back to the pot. “Just a few more minutes.”  


Yuri nodded. He watched the pot and waited for it to boil, or do whatever it was that the pot was supposed to be doing. Victor moved around him, landing little touched here and there on Yuri’s knees, his ankles, his waist and thighs. When dinner was ready, Victor served it while Yuri poured them each a glass of water, and then they sat down and ate. Victor talked about something silly Yurio had done during practice and Yuri laughed at all the night moments. Yuri told Victor about his walk through the park on the way home, and the way birds had danced around each other above the pond. He didn’t tell Victor about how he wanted to try and replicate their freedom on ice, how he’d felt chained down ever since he came here.  


After dinner, and once the dishes had been washed, Victor suggested a movie, but when he saw Yuri’s tired shrug. He grabbed Yuri’s hands and pulled him to bed instead. Yuri fell asleep quickly, happy to be wrapped in Victor’s arms, tucked together under the heavy comforter, Victor’s chin tucked over his head and the pads of Victor’s fingers tracing along the muscles in Yuri’s arms.  


_If I could stay like this,_ Yuri thought as he drifted off, _then I might be able to think of this as “home” one day._


	3. Loss: Chapter 3

It was still dark when Yuri’s eyes fluttered open. Beneath his hand, he could feel Victor’s chest rise and fall as he slept. One of Victor’s arms was draped loosely over Yuri’s waist. At the edge of the bed, Makkachin was snoring a little. Yuri ducked his head back into Victor’s chest and tried to remember the dream he’d been having. There had been birds. And he had been skating. But had he been a bird or was he trying to catch them? He couldn’t remember, and he couldn’t fall back asleep while the question edged at the corners of his mind. 

He pulled away from Victor with a sigh. The lights suspended above them were off, but flashes of color and light still danced across the ceiling, reflecting the nightlife of the city below. It was a quiet neighborhood, but St. Petersburg was still a city. ‘Quiet’ was a relative term. The hands on the silver alarm clock on the nightstand on Yuri’s side of the bed told him that it was almost midnight, but his body said it was almost dawn, time to wake up, time to start the day. 

Yuri closed his eyes again. He had been cursed with insomnia ever since he had come to St. Petersburg. He had thought at first that it was only jetlag, but jetlag didn’t persist like this. Jetlag didn’t wake him up only hours after he had fallen asleep, happy and warm, in Victor’s arms. 

_Sleep._ He told himself. _Sleep. Sleep. Sleep._

It was no use. He was awake, and sleep was as far away right now as home. He wasn’t likely to find it again tonight until exhaustion overtook him. As quietly as he could, Yuri slipped out of bed. He glanced down at the street, where a car slipped past, unknown by all the other sleeping neighbors, leaving Yuri as its only witness. He picked up his skating bag, off the ground and grabbed Victor’s sweater from the hamper. He pulled a pair of socks as quietly as he could out of the drawer in the square grey dresser and paused at the door. Victor sighed in his sleep and rolled over, wrapping his arms around himself. Makkachin snorted, then kept snoring. Yuri slipped out, feeling as substantial as a shadow. 

In the living room, he changed in the dark, pulling on sweats and a long sleeved shirt, then Victor’s sweater on top of that. He pulled on the thick socks one at a time then grabbed his keys from where he had left them on the coffee table when he had come home that afternoon. At the door he slid on his trainers and again, slipped out as quietly as he could. He pulled on his coat as he walked down the hall and slung his bag over his shoulders. When he walked out the front door and hit the sidewalk, he started running and St. Petersburg became a blur of color and golden light around him. 

And here was the fourth thing he loved about St. Petersburg: the way it fell around him as he ran and tested the strength in his own legs, the way the city sparked as he went by, the way he could escape in the city like a ghost, running from his insomnia whenever it came calling, and the way St. Petersburg, so like a Victor made in gold, wrapped him up and protected him. 

It had been a blessed discovery on one of the first nights that Yuri had moved here, when he had found a rink that stayed open late for patrons who wanted to skate with their sweethearts at night, or those who couldn’t find time to practice until the city was cloaked with dark. Officially, the rink closed at 12:30, but if Yuri got there soon enough, they would keep the doors open for him. The girl at the desk liked him; she thought he was funny, and she didn’t bother him when he wanted to practice, although she would occasionally watch. After a few weeks, she started leaving the key on the counter for him to lock up when she went home. They had forged an unspoken bond in the silent hours they had spent together. That was the fifth and final thing that Yuri loved about St. Petersburg, this secret release he kept all to himself. It wasn’t home, it wasn’t the Ice Castle, but when Yuri stepped onto the ice there, he could almost forget all of that. 

It was just after twelve when he burst through the doors to the rink. The girl behind the counter smiled at him; he smiled back and settled down to take his skates out of his bag, to pull them on and lace them up and get ready to skate again. When he was done, he nodded at her. She nodded at him, and he walked by through the ice doors to the rink. 

It was sparse tonight; only a lone couple. The girl was clearly better than her boyfriend, who kept slipping and stumbling and grabbing her arm with a white-knuckled grip, but she didn’t seem to mind. She would giggle a little time then help him along. The smiles they gave each other rivaled the industrial lighting focused on the rink. Yuri smiled, happy to get to witness their joy in each other, and then he was on the ice and the ice was speeding by under him and he was _skating_. 

Here at last was the relief and comfort he couldn’t get when he skated with all the others in Victor’s rink. In Yurio’s rink. This was his ice. He could do anything he wanted to here. He came around a turn and spun, took off and made double toe loop. Not too difficult, but the landing he made was better than any he had done in practice earlier. His feet were more certain, somehow, of how they needed to move and jump and land. The unease that prickled as an unwanted, yet constant, companion in his chest these days, eased. He could do this. He could win. He came around again, passed the couple, made a quad toe loop this time because he knew he could and then followed it up with a double Salchow. 

He was getting into it now, feeling the rhythm of his own heartbeat and the music that drifted soft as snow into the arena from the speakers above. Where was the couple, were they still skating? No time for that—another toe loop, alone this time. He was the best at those. Then two salchow in a row. He came around the corner and knew what was next. 

He landed the flip better than he ever had, even if it was only a double, and he kept going, loving the familiar feel of his legs and feet pushing off against the ice and the ice pushing back, lifting him into every jump. That was all that mattered in the end; him and the ice. In skating, he spoke to the ice and the ice spoke back, encouraged him on to new heights with every hiss of his skates against the surface. 

He could remember his dream now; there had been birds, the same birds from the park, and he had skated on the stars between them until the stars became ice. The he had turned around and there had been Victor, but not Victor at the same time, because this Victor had skated on, beautifully, even as Yuri tried to chase after him. Their paths came so close to touching, ran parallel to each other, but never touched. Victor skated on, face a map of bliss, even as Yuri had called his name, softly, like if it was a question. Eventually, Yuri had just stopped and watched and let himself fall behind. That was what had woken him up, the unspoken despair that had washed over him in the end. 

He didn’t feel despair now, just the freedom of his skates on the ice and the ice pushing him on. He couldn’t do this at Victor and Yurio’s rink; the ice didn’t talk to him. It liked him even less than the other skaters. But the ice here had become something closer than a lover in the long nighttime hours that Yuri had skated here, with only the ice as his witness. 

He pushed off the edge of his skate, jumped an axel. It was over rotated, but he didn’t fall and he didn’t feel like slowing down. He was free, finally. Free, free, free. His skates called it with every step and he replied to them by moving through a step sequence, safe and secure in the knowledge of his own strength and ability. He had won silver at the Grand Prix Finals, then bronze at the Four Continents. He had narrowly missed the podium at the Worlds. Victor had been upset in the quiet way of his, though he had cheered Yuri on all the same. It didn’t matter now though; this year would all be gold, like the blur of the St. Petersburg streets as Yuri ran by them at night. Gold like the light on the bedroom ceiling from the city below as it held out a waiting hand to his insomnia rattled mind. Gold. Gold. Gold. 

He did a flip again, a quadruple this time. He reveled in the feel of the release from the ice for a moment, the brief period of flight before he landed, again, perfectly. 

A sharp banging rattled around the arena. Yuri glanced up, pulled briefly out of his reverie by the girl from the entrance. He started to slow down, but she shook her head, held up the keys. 

_Keep skating,_ the movement said. _I just wanted you to know that I was leaving._

He flashed her a thumbs up as he passed, signaling that he understood her message, loud and clear and she flashed one back before turning away. Once she was gone, Yuri kept skating, flying around the rink and through the air until his body could take it no longer. He turned out the lights one by one and picked the keys up off the counter. It was a second pair, he knew, and the counter girl wanted him to keep them, but he always, inevitably, gave them back. It was a feeble attempt to say he would stop doing this, that he would, one of these nights, fall asleep and stay asleep, that he would stop hiding his secret night-life from Victor. But Yuri always returned, and the counter girl knew it, even if Yuri was too afraid to admit it. 

Once the doors to the rink were locked, he ran back home, slid through the front door and changed again in the dark back into his pajamas, left his keys once more on the coffee table, slipped back into the bedroom and dropped his clothes into the hamper then climbed, once more, back into the warm bed with Victor. Makkachin blinked open tired eyes and thumped his tail hopefully, but Yuri held a finger up to his lips, so the dog yawned instead and slid back to sleep. Yuri pulled the comforter back over himself and draped and arm over Victor’s side. His fiancé was still fast asleep. It was almost as if Yuri’s little night-time escape hadn’t happened at all. Almost, that is, if his body didn’t betray him, if his legs weren’t tired from all the skating and running and careful effort at being quiet. 

Victor would figure him out eventually. He would either notice Yuri was gone one night or raise questions about Yuri’s fatigue during practice. But he hadn’t figured out yet, and Yuri was too exhausted to care what would happen when he did.


	4. Loss: Chapter 4

“Yuri,” 

It was Victor, shaking him awake. Was it time to get up already? Yuri felt like he had just come home and closed his eyes, 

“Yuri, come on, _lyubov_ , we have to get up.” 

Yuri burrowed deeper into the comforter and groaned. Victor sighed. “Really, Yuri, you can’t sleep forever.” 

By some miracle, Yuri managed to drag his arm out of the tangle of the sheets. He held up five fingers. Five more minutes, that was all he was asking for. Victor sighed again, but landed a kiss on Yuri’s temple. 

“Alright, but no longer. I’ll put breakfast together. Oatmeal alright?” 

Yuri hummed out something that could be interpreted as agreement and the bed shifted as Victor stood up and moved on into the kitchen. His sleep after returning from the rink had been dreamless; exhaustion had overruled any wanderings of his mind. With a groan, he dragged himself up. How long had it been since Victor had left? A minute? Two? What time had he come home last night? He thought the hands of the clock had pointed somewhere in the area of the curly two, but he couldn’t remember exactly. He’d lost himself in the freedom of the ice, and the relief of really skating. 

He rubbed his bleary eyes and snagged his glasses off the table. The bed was warm, and the sheets soft. It was a cruel kind of punishment to have to leave and go to practice when he was so comfortable. 

“Yuri,” Victor called, his voice trailing from the kitchen. The park outside the window was covered in the long shadow of the building, but in the distance, some trees were crowned with gold. The soft pad of Victor’s bare feet came marching down the hallway back to the bedroom. 

“Yuri, really,” Victor said as he swung the door open. 

Yuri tore his eyes away from the park and the city that was pulling itself awake. He smiled weakly. 

“I’m up,” he said. “Just still a little tired.” 

Victor frowned. “You’re always tired these days.” 

_Because I’m sneaking out every night to go skating in private while you’re still sleeping, Victor,_ Yuri thought to himself. _It’s been going on for weeks now, my dirty little secret. Don’t ask me why, but it’s the only time when I feel free. The only time when I feel like me._

But he couldn’t say that. Because it was complicated and he was tired and he didn’t know how to explain himself to Victor. The lie left him feeling unclean somehow, but there was no way around it, so he shrugged instead and pulled himself to his feet. Slowly walked up to the door. Kissed Victor on the cheek. 

“Breakfast is in the kitchen then?” he asked instead. 

Victor studied Yuri for a moment, searching Yuri’s eyes for whatever it was that Yuri himself wouldn’t say. Yuri’s heart gave a jolt. Was this it? Was the game up? But no—the truth was too ludicrous to guess. Victor huffed out a breath through his nose, grabbed Yuri’s wrist, kissed him on the cheek. 

“Yes,” he said. “Breakfast is in the kitchen.” 

Victor continued to study Yuri while they ate breakfast, and Yuri could feel Victor’s eyes tracking him as they got ready to go to practice and as they took a lap around the park before heading over to the rink. Everywhere he went, every move he made, he could feel Victor’s eyes on him, not to mention everyone else’s, following every flubbed jump and every unsteady push of his skates against the ice. 

He was so tired. His legs felt like lead under him. He couldn’t lift up enough to make a good jump; he couldn’t push off enough to get the speed he needed in the first place. 

“Yuri,” when Victor’s voice inevitably called to him from the edge of the rink, Yuri had no choice but to answer the call. 

“This is awful,” Victor reprimanded, gesturing to Yuri and the ice. “You look awful,” there was a note of accusation in his voice now. “What’s going on with you?” 

Yuri shrugged noncommittally. 

Victor frowned. “Have you been sleeping?” 

_No,_ said Yuri’s treacherous heart. 

“Yes,” said his lying mouth. 

Yurio skated by them and Yuri caught the scathing glance he sent them out of the corner of his eye. Victor continued to frown at him. This was wrong; he never should have left Japan, never should have left Hasetsu. He forced his breathing to be even, even as his throat contracted and his eyes burned. He wasn’t going to cry right now, not here, where he was all alone in this crowd. Later, maybe, when he had gone back to Victor’s apartment and it was only him and Makkachin. 

Victor sighed. “Get off the ice, then. Clearly, it’s not doing you any good. I’ll see you later.” 

Numbly, Yuri nodded. He slipped past Victor back onto the floor as Victor walked on the ice. Victor didn’t look back, and Yuri took a step with the intention to do the same. He hesitated though, and after a moment, he looked back. Victor’s skating would always strike a chord in Yuri’s heart, no matter his mood or the unspoken words between them. Of all the things Victor did, he was most beautiful when he skated. Yuri could see the peace carved out in his face that came, Yuri knew, because at last, Victor didn’t have to worry about Yuri and coaching him. When he skated, all Victor had to think about was skating, and the bliss that came with that sensation showed. 

Distantly, Yuri wondered if he would ever find that bliss again. The likelihood of it seemed impossibly far-fetched, despite his knowledge of his midnight skates when he was finally able to cast aside the chains of St. Petersburg. He turned away. This time, when the tears came, he didn’t think he could keep them away. 

Their unspoken routine continued in the days that followed. More and more, Yuri found himself sneaking out at night, escaping to the rink so he could skate alone and free. By day, his skating suffered increasingly during practice as a result. Victor’s frustration with Yuri’s skating had risen to the point where Yuri dreaded every interaction with his coach. Everything was threaded with the question of why Yuri wasn’t skating as well as he had before, as well as he and Victor both knew he could. 

There was small temptation when those silently accusatory moments came around for Yuri to confess everything, to shout how it wasn’t him, it was the rink, it was St. Petersburg, how it was all slowly suffocating him and when he was alone, when he was able to cast all of that aside, he could skate _perfectly, Victor, perfectly._

Because it was true. He was skating better than he ever had before. The girl from the entrance to his rink had taken to filming him while he practiced in the late hours and as they left together, she showed Yuri the videos. His form was fantastic. Something to even rival Victor’s, perhaps. 

But he couldn’t tell Victor all of this, of course, because telling meant explaining, and the thought of providing some sort of explanation, of confessing how little Yuri believed he actually belonged in St. Petersburg, made his chest constrict more than being in this city did. 

He lost joy in the park and the view and Victor’s cooking. Everything these days left Yuri with a dull, bland feeling that somehow resembled the color of mush. All that mattered was the release of skating at midnight and the hissing sound of the ice that talked to him and the language he spoke back with every movement of his skates. 

There was a night where Victor almost caught Yuri, when he was woken by the shifting of the bed as Yuri slipped out of it. 

“Where are you going?” He had asked, voice still groggy with sleep. 

“To get some water,” Yuri had said. It was terrifying, how quickly and easily the lie came to his lips. How perfectly he covered it up with a soft smile and a kiss landed on Victor’s cheek. “Go back to sleep. I won’t be long.” 

Victor’s eyes hadn’t lingered, studying Yuri’s face as they so often did when these lies came in the daylight hours. His aqua eyes had slid closed as he nodded and a moment later, he was fast asleep again. Yuri vowed to be more careful after that, and made his comings and goings more efficient by leaving almost everything by the door, ready for him to leave, and changing partially at the rink. He was becoming almost as good at the art of deception as he was at skating. It was a thought both terrible and thrilling. When had he become this person? Where had the old Yuri gone?


	5. Loss: Chapter 5

A week later, Yuri spent one of his longest nights at the rink yet. He had left a little after eleven and the clocks at the rink had read something close to four when he had finally packed up his things and left for the evening. His phone with the videos of him skating and his keys were on the counter where the girl had left them. She had left a long time ago, but he hadn’t noticed the time flying by as he flew across the ice. He didn’t tire when he skated like that; he couldn’t. He remembered the birds he used to see so often in the park and thought he had inherited their wings. He could do this forever, he thought. Go skating on and on and on. 

This wasn’t healthy, he knew. Normal people, not to mention an athlete like him, needed to sleep so their bodies could pull themselves back together to get through another arduous day of living. But no matter what, Yuri couldn’t stop. Every night, when insomnia pulled him brutally awake he would lie there for a few minutes, mouthing the mantra of sleep to himself, but it never worked. Before he left every night, he promised himself that he wouldn’t stay at the rink too long, that he would come back to Victor’s apartment and get the sleep he knew he so desperately needed. 

But every night he was gone for longer and longer, all promises forgotten the moment his feet hit the sidewalk and the city turned to gold around him. It no longer reminded him of Victor’s arms; Victor hadn’t held him, let alone touch him, in a long time. Instead, the city had become a labyrinth he needed to escape and the golden streets pointed the way out. They became a golden path to home and freedom and easy breathing. 

He paused at the door outside the apartment building and looked at the park across the street. It was as silent and sleepy as the rest of the neighborhood, but a lone cat dragged itself out of the shadows. It gaped its mouth open in a wide yawn and regarded Yuri with bright yellow eyes while Yuri regarded it in turn. The cat’s fur was as dark as the nighttime shadows the drowned the park. If he hadn’t moved, Yuri wouldn’t have known the cat had been there at all. 

After a moment, the cat turned away, bored already with Yuri and the picture he painted, poised on the and stoop and Yuri turned away already, exhaustion and general disinterest with all of St. Petersburg clouding his thoughts as he climbed the steps one by one up to Victor’s apartment. He fumbled the keys for a moment when he reached the door but caught them before they hit the ground. 

Makkachin was waiting when he opened the door, and there was something off about that, but Yuri’s brain was too tired to process what. 

“Shh,” he whispered as he closed the door gently behind him. 

Makkachin jumped on him and his tired body, which could barely support Yuri, almost collapsed under the weight. “Makkachin,” he scolded in a low his. 

As he tried find his own balance (where had the strength that had kept him going in the rink less than an hour ago gone?) and force the overgrown poodle off of him, a click echoed through the apartment. Yuri froze as light washed over him. And here it was at last, discovery. 

He raised his head, his gaze, slowly, but he expected the scene that met his eyes. Makkachin jumped down and padded over to where Victor stood on the other side of the couch. The dog’s tail wagged happily, ignorant of the tension drawn, tight as a wire, between the two men. 

“Victor.” Yuri said, as he straightened. The loss of Makkachin’s weight had almost unbalanced him once again. His voice felt strange, empty. There was as much emotion and feeling in it as there was in the cool industrial lines of the kitchen and the windows and the rest of the apartment. 

“Where’ve you been Yuri?” Victor asked, and although his voice was soft and gentle, there was sorrow in it, and the sharp taste of betrayal. Yuri almost wished Victor was angry. He didn’t know what to do with these curved and rounded emotions that padded around him. He wanted something sharp and hard that would cut through the void that was spreading throughout him, something that would drag him back to the moment instead of cloud it from him even more. 

It took Yuri a moment to find his voice. It was like he was seeing the apartment for the first time, and his eyes kept wandering around it looking for an edge to grab onto to keep him grounded here. They slipped over Victor and the space around him ceaselessly. 

The answer was easy: Skating. He had been skating, like he did every night when he couldn’t sleep and the city called to him from the streets. But it had become more than that, hadn’t it? Somewhere his nightly escape had stopped being just “skating” or even the far more dramatic “flying” and had become something more to Yuri. No, somewhere along the line, when the constriction around Yuri’s chest had changed from more than just a weekly or daily affair to an hourly one, something he endured second after second as he struggled for breath everywhere he went. Somewhere along the line, the rink and the golden path to it had become “Salvation” and it was all that was keeping Yuri going. 

He opened his mouth, not knowing what explanation would slip out, but knowing he needed to give one. “Remembering how to breathe,” he heard himself say. His athletic bag thumped dully to the ground. He was here but not here. In his mind, he raced back along the golden St. Petersburg streets and back to the ice that listened to him. He chased along it and flew and jumped and landed, perfect, perfect, perfect. This wasn’t real. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t having this conversation. 

His feet moved him to the kitchen and his hands pulled one of the tall, ridged glasses from one cabinet. His feet moved again and his hands turned on the tap and then put the glass under the water, filled it halfway. His hands raised the glass to his lips and his mouth drank. His throat wanted water. Aqua eyes followed his every move. 

“Yuri,” someone said. 

Did Yuri know that voice? He thought so. He turned around and there was Victor, as tall and straight as the glass of water Yuri’s hands held, grey hair mussed with sleep, bags under his plain blue eyes. He stood there, watching, looking sad and upset and frustrated. 

What a strange dream this was. 

“Do you want some too?” Yuri’s mouth asked. His lips traced out the words clumsily. His feet made to return to the cabinet with the tall, straight glasses. 

Something in Victor’s face broke. He padded towards Yuri slowly, pried free the glass of water that Yuri’s hand clutched so tightly. Yuri’s throat whined in complaint. It hadn’t been done with the water, the good, sweet, pure, cold water. Victor closed a hand around Yuri’s wrist and dragged Yuri’s feet over to the couch, made Yuri’s body sit next to his. 

In his mind, Yuri pushed off the back inside edge of his skate. He flew through the air, turning once, twice, three times, then four, and landed on the opposite foot. A perfect flip. Perfect, perfect, perfect. The ice pushed against his skates and Yuri pushed back. What should he do next? A loop? A Lutz? 

“Yuri.” 

Victor’s hands pushed the hair back from Yuri’s forehead. They were cool against Yuri’s too hot skin. He hadn’t realized how hot he was until Victor touched him. He should go back outside. It was cooler out there, wasn’t it? He couldn’t remember. He pushed off and did a toe loop in his mind and landed perfectly. Perfect, perfect, prefect. He loved doing toe loops; he was best at those. 

“Yuri, you need to look at me.” 

Yuri’s eyes blinked. Hadn’t they been looking at Victor? But no—they’d been focusing somewhere off in the corner. The shelves were stacked so neatly. Victor was posing outside of some elaborate building alone in the picture. Yuri’s eyes turned themselves again to Victor’s cool aqua gaze. 

“What?” His mouth and lips shaped out. 

He did a step sequence in his mind. He had never felt this good. 

“Yuri, what’s wrong with you?” Victor asked. His eyes, his voice, were earnest. 

“Nothing,” Yuri’s voice replied. He was coming around a turn. When he came off of it, he was going to do a jump, but he hadn’t decided what yet. Maybe a salchow. Those were fun. 

“Yuri, don’t lie to me.” 

Victor’s voice was sharp, and here at last was something that cut through Yuri’s daze. The ice underneath Yuri’s skates shattered, he tripped and fell before he ever made the jump. His head banged painfully against the shattered ice. His mouth tasted like copper. He was back in Victor’s apartment, sitting on Victor’s low grey couch while Victor himself sat next to Yuri, shoulders shaking a little with rage. On Yuri’s shoulders, Victor’s hands had clenched into a white knuckled grip. Yuri’s eyes caught on the way Victor’s shoulders shuddered, and how his mouth described a line that matched all the other smooth sleek lines that made up the apartment. Yuri pulled himself slowly out of Victor’s grip and stood up. 

Victor was mad. Okay. Yuri was mad too. He hadn’t realized it until now, but he could feel the rage uncoiling like a snake in his stomach. He wanted to break something. He wanted to break something as harshly and as sharply as Victor’s voice had shattered the ice in Yuri’s mind. 

“What’s wrong with me?” Yuri asked. 

Victor crossed his arms and stuck out a stubborn chin. His shoulders were still shaking. “Any time you feel like providing an answer, Yuri. Any time. I’m not stupid you know.” 

A harsh laugh escaped Yuri’s lips. The ridiculousness of the situation… 

He turned away, towards the neatly lined shelves that documented Victor’s life in photographs and the perfect straight lines of novels with titles in Russian that Yuri had never seen Victor read. 

Yuri swung back around. His face was reflected back at him in the kitchen windows, turned to mirrors against the backdrop of the right. 

“What’s wrong with me?” Yuri asked again, mostly to himself. He chuckled and gestured around him. “This, St. Petersburg, everything, Victor, _everything_.” 

Victor closed his eyes, took a deep breath. Yuri watched him. He was shaking now too, hysterical with confession. 

“What do you mean?” Victor ground out. 

Another laugh escaped Yuri’s lips, although he wasn’t sure what was supposed to be funny about this situation. Yes, he did—it was funny because everything about him living in St. Petersburg was a joke and here was the punchline. Yuri leaned forward, held up his hands to cut off every word. “I don’t belong here.” He said. 

Victor’s eyes tilted furiously. “Yes, you do.” 

Yuri shook his head. He was almost breathless with laughter. “No, I don’t. I never have, and I never will. Where have I been?” A loud shot of laughter escaped his lips. “Oh, that’s the best part, Victor, that’s the best part. I found a rink, you see, and the girl at the counter lets me skate for however long I want, alone and untroubled, because I can’t skate at practice because _I don’t belong here_ , and everyone else knows it.” 

Victor shot to his feet. “That’s insane, Yuri. Of course, you belong here, of course everyone wants you here.” 

Yuri was still chuckling, even as he shook his head. “No, they don’t. Just ask Yurio.” He let out another hard laugh. What was wrong with him? 

“Just ask Yurio, and he’ll tell you,” Yuri continued. “They all hate me, I know it. Don’t you see it, Victor? Don’t you see?” 

Yuri guided his stumbling feet back to the door. His course of action was so clear to him now. The truth was out. There was only one way to go from here. 

“No, I don’t see,” Victor said. 

Yuri looked back at his coach, his fiancé, as he stooped to pick up his bag. Victor looked so lost, standing there empty handed in the middle of the living room. In the back of his mind, Yuri thought that Victor had been made for the ice and the ice for Victor. He smiled. In a moment, this would all be okay. This would all be alright. 

He swung his bag over his shoulders and traced his way slowly back to Victor. “That’s okay then,” Yuri said. “Because I do, and I know what I have to do.” He pressed a kiss to Victor’s perfect, straight lips and pulled away. “Don’t worry.” 

Victor’s brow knotted with confusion, and Yuri’s heart tore a little. The knot was out of place in the smooth, neat lines of Victor’s face, and it needed to go away. 

“I don’t understand.” Victor said. 

“I’m going home,” Yuri said plainly, turning back to the door. 

Victor grabbed his arm and pulled him back. 

“You are home,” he insisted. 

Yuri shook his head, released his arm from Victor’s hand, set Victor’s hand gently down at Victor’s side. “No I’m not,” Yuri said. 

He could see the exact moment when Victor’s heart broke. It shone in Victor’s aqua eyes like the sharp shards of ice where Yuri still lay in his mind, unable to get up from the jump he had failed to make. He had succeeded in shattering something. Pity it couldn’t have only been a picture or a glass. 

Yuri turned back to the door. Eased it open. Makkachin whined, and Yuri glanced over his shoulder to see the poodle looking back and forth between he and Victor. He had almost forgotten the dog was there. He started to put out his hand to pat his friend’s head one last time, but Victor’s voice stopped him. 

“Don’t ever come back,” Victor said, and Yuri glanced up at him, Makkachin forgotten. 

“Leave your keys,” Victor said. His voice shook like the rest of his body. He looked so ruined. “And don’t ever come back. Don’t call me. Don’t text me. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to hear from you ever again if you leave. If you go, that’s it. Don’t ever come back. I hate you.” 

Yuri swallowed down the lump in his throat, but he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the keys. He dropped them on the floor with a clatter and then turned and walked out the door, shutting it carefully behind him. He tromped down the hall and down the stairs, onto the golden street where he stood what felt like just moments ago, watching a black cat from the park. He didn’t look back as his feet moved his body to the train station. He glanced around the street that had become so familiar to him. 

St. Petersburg wasn’t gold, he realized. The lights were a sickly yellow. It reminded him of a decaying thing. He kept walking until he reached the station, eyes trained on the sidewalk the whole way. He was done with this rotten city; he wanted to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.
> 
> In other news, I'm actually completely done writing this puppy (Spoiler: it's around 110,000 words, so it's a longer one). I plan on marking out how many chapters total there are going to be this weekend. There aren't that many left in this section (about..4? 5? I don't remember). So Part Two should be coming around next week! I should be updating daily, if not, it's for dramatic effect. 
> 
> Because, as we can all so clearly see, I am a terrible person.


	6. Loss: Chapter 6

From the train station he worked his way to the airport and from there he arranged a flight back to Japan. It was with a jolt as he boarded the plane that he realized that he had left all of his things—his clothes and possessions, back at Victor’s apartment and now had no way to reclaim them, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret his decision to leave, or to leave without waiting to pack. If he had stayed, Victor may yet have convinced him to stay, and that would only have led to them both suffering silently in the knowledge that things weren’t as bright and happy as they had been. No, it was better that Yuri had left quickly and cleanly, better that Victor had stayed in St. Petersburg where he belonged and that Yuri returned to the home and the city where he belonged in turn. 

He had to check his bag because of his skates, which left him only with his dying phone and wallet when he boarded the plane. He watched the videos of his skating from that night as he waited for the plane to take off. How many hours had it been since he had been to the rink? Seven? Eight? It had been surprisingly easy to find a flight out of St. Petersburg when he arrived at the airport. He would have to buy a new charger when he touched down again, and he needed to sleep, at some point. He had been running on adrenaline and the clarity of his decision to leave Russia, but exhaustion was going to catch up with him at some point. Already, his eyelids were growing heavy again. 

He watched as St. Petersburg slid away behind him as the plane took off, watched the twinkling lights grow ever more distant, and when at last he couldn’t see them anymore, he closed his eyes and fell asleep. The old woman crammed into the seat next to him woke him up gently when they prepared to touch down for the first stop. It was strange, yet comforting, to be treated so carefully by a stranger. 

“I go to see my grandchildren,” she said in clumsy English. 

Yuri gave her a small smile. She reminded him of an older version of his mother. “I’m going home,” he replied. His English was a little better than hers. Living in Detroit for so long had been helpful like that. 

She beamed back. “You have been gone long time?” she asked, picking through her words carefully. “It is…” she paused to think. “It is seven years since I know my grandchildren.” 

Yuri nodded and glanced out the window besides the woman. It was late morning, wherever they were. He couldn’t remember the name of the airport, but he had the letters of its code and the layover time written on a post-it note in his pocket. “It feels like it’s been forever,” he told her. 

She beamed at him again, then turned back to the window and together they watched as the ground drew nearer and the plane touched its wheels once more to earth. 

He brought a phone charger at the duty free shop and settled down the wait for the next flight. It wouldn’t come for a while, but that was okay. It gave Yuri the chance to really process everything that had happened in St. Petersburg. He and Victor had broken up. He could never go back there. More than that, Victor didn’t want him to ever go back there. 

_I hate you._

The words echoed dully around Yuri’s head. That as fair, Yuri supposed, but leaving was something that Yuri had needed to do, for both their sakes. He had faith that Victor would see that in time. 

His phone buzzed dully as it came back to life. He had notifications from all of his social media accounts lighting up the screen. He flicked through them, confused, at first, at what he was seeing, but then the realization came through and something white hot and terrible and not his blossomed in his chest. 

Victor had deleted every scrap of evidence that the two of them had ever meant anything to each other. Gone were their photos, the comments and thoughts and musings that Victor had dropped anywhere about Yuri or their life together. It was like if none of it had ever happened. Yuri clutched his phone in his hand, his heart beating faster and faster. He couldn’t get air in his lungs. This wasn’t happening. Victor wouldn’t do that. Victor wouldn’t so forcibly remove Yuri from his life. 

But he had. Yuri had been there, in the apartment, however long ago, as Victor had told him if he left to never come back, and Yuri had left. So Victor had erased him. Simple. Easy. The efficient lines of Victor’s life were no longer marred by the mess of scribbles and color that had been Yuri. Victor was finally free. Yuri had freed him. 

With a shout, Yuri threw his phone away. He didn’t want this anymore. He wanted Victor to come around the corner and apologize. He wanted everything to be okay again. He didn’t want this gaping hole in his chest where his heart had been that was threatening to swallow him whole. He buried his head in his hands and didn’t try to swallow down the tears when they spilled over his fingers. 

What had he _done?_ What had he been _thinking?_

Clearly, he hadn’t been, but he couldn’t take anything back now. It was what it was, and he would have to deal with the consequences. He leaned forward and picked up his phone from where it lay face down on the ground a few feet away. Tethered as it was to the wall by the charging cord, it hadn’t been able to fly too far. He wiped his nose on the back of his wrist and tried to pull himself together. He turned his phone back on, tried not to let his heart break any farther when the screen lit up with the picture of he and Victor, standing together in Barcelona. 

A single crack ran down the screen now, imperfectly dividing them, cutting a little bit into Yuri’s chest and across Victor’s long silver bangs. He navigated past the lock screen, entered his passcode and stared blankly at his homepage. Victor had cut Yuri out of his life as cleanly as a surgeon cut away cancer. An ugly lump rose in Yuri’s throat and tears threatened him again, but he blinked them away. 

If Victor wanted him gone, he would go. Systematically, Yuri deleted every picture of he and Victor on his phone that he could find. He replaced his lock screen so that it was just a picture of him, staring up at some forgotten building in a city whose name he couldn’t bring himself to recall. He deleted his entire Instagram account when he realized how difficult it would be to remove every picture of he and Victor from his profile. He was saved the trouble of unfriending Victor on Facebook, as that had already been taken care of for him, but went on to purge every scrap of his former fiancé and coach from the account. On and on he went until it was all gone, and Yuri was left, once more, alone. 

When the time came, he boarded the next plane. A young man sat next to him this time, to engaged with whatever electronic he clutched in his hands to notice Yuri. Yuri glanced over him briefly and wondered what had become of the old woman. He hoped that she had found her grandkids and that they were happy together. Someone in this world deserved to be. 

He slipped off into sleep again as the plane slipped over the edge of the continent and over the ocean. Home. He would be home soon, with the familiar inn and the Ice Palace and the castle keeping guard over them all in the distance on the hill. And he would never have to think about Viktor Nikiforov if he didn’t want to. When they landed again, they were in Narita, and Yuri took in the familiar feel and smell and bustle that was Japan and smiled. He only had one more connecting flight to Fukuoka, then he would take the train and at long last, he would be home. 

The moment he stepped out of the terminal, he tapped his mother’s number into his phone. He had forgotten to call her in the frenzy to leave Russia. He had forgotten to tell her he was coming back to where he belonged. 

“Mama,” he said once the call had connected. His voice was a little hesitant; he wondered what she would think of him leaving Russia. 

“Yuri!” She was so excited. He hoped that, by coming home without Victor, he wouldn’t be letting her down. “How’s Russia, my pet? How’s Victor? How’s little Yurio?” 

Yuri’s steps faltered and he closed his eyes. Of all of his shortcomings and failures over the years, this had to be one of the worst. In that moment, he couldn’t determine which was worse: losing the Grand Prix Final two years ago, or telling his mother that he had somehow managed to make a complete mess of his personal life. 

“They’re fine, I think,” He said hollowly. “But, Mama, I couldn’t do it. I decided to come home. I’m in the airport at Narita right now. I just have one more flight and…” he trailed off. On the other end of the line, his mother had gone quiet. 

“Oh, Yuri,” she said. He could hear the sorrow in her voice. Tears were threatening to spill over his eyes again, but he wasn’t going to make a disgrace of himself in public. He wiped them away hastily. 

“I’m sorry, Mama,” he said. 

“No, Pet,” she said gently. “You have nothing to be sorry about at all. We’ll be waiting for you when you get home. Don’t miss your flight, and text me when you land. Don’t you worry about anything, Pet. It’s all going to be okay. I’ll have something for you when you get here.” 

Numbly, Yuri nodded. “Okay,” he said roughly when he remembered she couldn’t see him. “Okay. Thank you, Mama.” 

“No trouble, Pet. It’s going to work out, you’ll see. I love you.” 

Despite everything, Yuri smiled. “I love you too, Mama.” 

She hummed happily, then disconnected the call. Around Yuri, other Travelers rushed by, everyone going somewhere and too caught up in the going to consider the implications of what caused them to go at all, the whys, the bigger questions. He sniffed and pulled himself together after a moment, and then he joined the rush of the crowd, smiling a little to himself and quietly humming a snatch of a tune he had heard somewhere. 

While Mama’s sorrow and forgiveness had been harder to bear for Yuri than if she had met his decision with anger and disappointment, it eased his heart a little. He was angry and disappointed enough with himself. Mama’s love wrapped around him like a soft cotton blanket, encouraged him on with the gentle hand of faith, and filled his mouth with the sweet taste of hope. 

He had lost Victor. He had lost his coach and his fiancé and one of his best friends. The only possessions he still had were those packed neatly in his athletic bag and tucked safely in his pocket. He had no idea what he was going to do next or even how to begin to tackle this season, but Mama’s words had reassured him. He was okay. Everything else was okay. It was all going to be okay.


	7. Loss: Chapter 7

When the train rattled into the stop at Hasetsu, Yuri slowly took his bag from the seat beside him and swung it over his shoulders. He carefully picked his way down the steps to the main floor. Minako was there waiting for him, just as she always was when he came home, but this time she didn’t cheer or wave a banner. They stood and looked at each other for a moment before she smiled, a touch bittersweet around the corners, and pulled him into a hug. 

“Oh, Yuri,” she breathed. 

“Hello Minako,” he told her shoulder. 

She left and hand on his shoulder when she pulled away. 

“You’re okay?” she asked, scrutinizing him up and down. “Hiroko told me that you were coming home and needed someone to pick you up, but nothing else. What happened, Yuri? Where’s Victor?” 

A pain stabbed his heart at the mention of Victor’s name, sharp enough that he nearly stumbled backwards with the force of it. “Victor and I broke up,” he said quietly. There was a lump in his throat and he could bring himself to look at Minako. He focused on one of the buttons on her coat instead. “He hates me now and never wants to see me again.” 

Minako frowned. “I don’t think that’s quite true, Yuri…Victor loves you. Whatever happened, he’ll get over it. You’ll see.” 

Numb, Yuri shook his head. “No, he won’t.” He forced his eyes to meet Minako’s. “Please, can we just go home now?” 

She nodded once, sharply, after a moment; still frowning, still trying to divine what had happened between he and Victor to leave him in this state. Mercifully, however, she didn’t ask, and just looped an arm through his. They walked silently out of the station together and the sweet night air of Hasetsu kissed Yuri’s cheeks, welcoming him back after having been gone for so long. He smiled. This was good. He was okay. Everything was going to be okay. 

The inn, when they reached the front gates, looked the same as always, clean, but a little worn down under all its history. The last hot springs inn in all of Hasetsu. There was a lesson there, he thought, in its resilience, in continuing on despite all the trouble. He took a deep breath. 

_I will be okay._ He thought to himself again. 

Inside, Mama had prepared, as promised, a meal for him to enjoy. He had been looking forward to it on the last flight and on the train, but at the site of all the food, his stomach flipped. He thought, absently, of Victor carefully cooking him dinner every night and the view of St. Petersburg over Victor’s shoulder. Something that was tears rose in the back of Yuri’s throat and he swallowed it down before it could declare itself all over his mother’s cooking. 

“Are you okay, pet?” she asked, laying a hand on his cheek. Her eyes swam with motherly concern. A headache slowly began pounding out its pulse across Yuri’s forehead. 

“Actually,” he said, drawing away, “I don’t feel well. I think I’m just going to go to bed.” 

Beside him, Minako shifted awkwardly. It wasn’t like Yuri to turn down his mother’s cooking, and they all knew it. He wished someone would be as angry with him as he was with himself. He wished someone would demand he would go back to Russia and make things right with Victor. 

_But Victor doesn’t want to see me again._ Yuri thought to himself. _He hates me now, and I think I may hate him a little too._

His mother’s smile was understanding, and she patted his cheek one last time before he turned and walked down along the hall. He pretended that he didn’t feel her eyes drilling into his back, or the quiet questions she put to Minako when she thought he couldn’t hear them anymore. He slid his bedroom door open, and then closed again. Everything felt so unbearably fragile, and he was so unbelievably tired. 

His athletic bag slipped from his shoulder without him really thinking about it and he barely processed the dull thud that came when it hit the ground. He wanted to lie down and sleep forever. He wanted to wake up and be able to turn the clock back to a year ago, when Victor was here and they were…not quite together, but getting there. 

_I hate you._ Victor’s voice said in his head again. 

Yuri closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. “I hate you, too.” He whispered. 

The lie tasted funny in his mouth. His headache was pounding worse now, demanding to be known and acknowledged and felt. Yuri didn’t have the energy to go searching for an aspirin or something else that might make this all better though, so he collapsed onto his bed, his tiny twin bed, and let his headache and his heartbeat count out the time until he fell asleep. 

OOO

It took Yuri a moment to come to himself when he woke up. His eyes instantly flew to the ceiling, looking for the tracks of the golden St. Petersburg street lights, but they weren’t there. The gentle waves of Victor’s breath were gone too, as was the rumble of Makkachin snoring at the end of the bed, and then he remembered. He had come home to Hasetsu because he didn’t belong in St. Petersburg and never would. Victor hated him for lying and leaving and just being an all-around terrible skater. Altogether, the world looked pretty bleak, but as Yuri’s eyes traced the familiar blur of the crooked lines defining the bedroom that had been his for as long as he could remember, a thought rose from some dark and dusty corner of his mind. 

_And this year I am going to win gold at the Grand Prix Finals._

He wanted to laugh at his own naivety, but the thought had already sunk into his bones. He was going to win gold. He would do it, or he would end himself trying. The sweet gold promise of that medal was the only thing holding together right then and he wouldn’t give it up for anything. 

_But you have no coach,_ he thought to himself, _and Yurio and Victor to compete with besides. How will you do it?_

“I’ll do it,” he said firmly. “I’ll show them all. I can do it. I am strong enough and I don’t need them to win. And maybe along the way…” 

And maybe along the way he’d run into Victor. Two scenes played out in Yuri’s mind: one where he snubbed Victor and flaunted his success without his hero, and another where the two reconciled and Victor saw the truth of Yuri’s actions. He wasn’t quite sure which one he wanted more. Victor’s “I hate you” was still rattling hollowly in the back of Yuri’s mind. 

Yuri rolled over and buried his head in the pillow. He still felt too hot and sick, but he had found his footing again and grabbed onto a goal that would have to be pried out of his cold, dead hands. 

_I am going to win gold at the Grand Prix Finals._ He told himself again. _And then everything will be perfect._

Before long, Yuri had fallen back into his dreams again, more at ease now than he ever had been in Victor’s bed in St. Petersburg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Chapter?? Another chapter. 
> 
> Why? Well, as promised I've been counting chapters, and fam, let me tell you, there are 36 chapters in the first three parts alone. And the last "half" is longer. So...yeah. 
> 
> It would be cruel if I dolled out a fic I wrote in a month in a period that was significantly longer. So you all get two chapters a day now. Probably not together because that's the kind of person I am, but more likely one in the morning/one at night. Sound good? Good. Now hold onto your bootstraps because things are definitely going to get worse before they get better.
> 
> *Please note that there may be exceptions to the new "Two-chapters a day rule"


	8. Loss: Chapter 8

Yuri was awoken the next morning with a gruff shake. The blurry shape of a person stood over him when he blinked his eyes open. 

“Yuri,” Mari said. “Wake up. Mama has breakfast, and if you’re going to be here, you have to help out. That’s the rule.” 

She left the room before he could respond, sliding the door shut behind her with a slam to rival the sound of gunshots. He stared lazily at the ceiling for a moment before he pulled himself up. He was tired, and still very jetlagged, but his headache was gone, and he felt a little better. He snagged his glasses from the bedside table. He didn’t remember taking them off last night, but he was glad he had remembered to do so. He recalled a night when he had been far younger and come home from the Ice Castle later than usual, having spent the evening practicing longer than he had initially intended. He had collapsed into bed without taking off his glasses and had found them crushed beneath him the next morning. Mama had been so upset with him. 

He glanced around his room as he pulled himself off the bed and started getting ready for the day. The room was similar to how it had always been, yes, with the same crooked lines of his dresser and the nightstand that listed towards the bed, the same view outside the window of the grounds and the city beyond. But it was different too. So much of his stuff was still packed away in boxes, waiting to be sent away to St. Petersburg. He had held off on Mama sending him so much. It was like if he had known from the start that he wouldn’t last there. 

The thought was depressing and reassuring at the same time. 

When he reached to pull off his sweater, he hesitated. He hadn’t thought about what he was wearing when he left, he had just…gone. He still had Victor’s soft grey sweater on. He hadn’t realized. He pulled it off slowly, numb once more. The room felt a little colder without it wrapped around him, and he tried to tell himself it was just because he had taken off the sweater and nothing more. For a moment, he just held it in his hands, letting the soft material slide through his fingers. It was cashmere, he thought. Like everything else in his life, Victor had always been so particular about the clothes he wore. 

It a violent, sudden movement, Yuri threw the sweater in in the corner of the room, then went over and buried it under old clothes and boxes and other trash. He didn’t want to think about Victor. He didn’t want to be reminded of Victor. Victor hated him now, but worse than that, he had turned a blind eye to Yuri’s suffering in St. Petersburg. If Victor had worked out eventually that Yuri was sneaking out every night, why had he confronted Yuri like that? Why hadn’t he stopped him? Why hadn’t he been able see that something was wrong? 

Yuri ripped off the ring and threw it into the corner where the sweater was. They were supposed to be partners, and Victor had abandoned Yuri when Yuri had needed him the most. He had made Yuri the bad one, the one who left, who sneaked off to find release in the dark arms of St. Petersburg by night. It was all good and well that Victor never wanted to see Yuri again; Yuri never wanted to see Victor again if he could help it. If he did, well…the image came to mind, suddenly and unbidden, of Yuri punching Victor in his perfect nose. Despite himself, he smiled. Heaven help Victor Nikiforov if he ever crossed Yuri’s path again; Yuri knew then that he would never spare his ex-fiancé all the pain and misery he deserved as payback for Yuri’s suffering in St. Petersburg. 

He found an old shirt and a pair of pants he had left behind for whatever reason and changed a little more forcefully than necessary. He paused for a moment at the door though. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and something slick and ugly and not his, never his, was unfolding in his stomach and forcing itself up his throat enough that he almost felt he couldn’t breathe. 

Slowly, he forced his breaths to be more even and his heartbeat to slow down. Momentarily tamed, the beast inside him slid back and settled somewhere around his hips, as if to remind Yuri that, despite all of Yuri’s efforts, it would always be there and could and would strike at any moment. 

“I am okay,” Yuri breathed to himself, resting his forehead on the door. He felt sick and hot again. “I will be okay. Everything will be okay.” 

He wasn’t sure if it was a prayer or a mantra or something else, but it gave him the strength he needed to open up the door and walk down the hall. 

Mama was waiting for him in the kitchen and she beamed when she saw him. “Yuri!” she practically sang. “I have breakfast if you’re hungry?” Her eyes when she looked up at him were big and hopeful. 

Yuri glanced at the food set out on the counter and his stomach flipped again. He could still feel the slimy tentacle of the beast that was settled on his hips in his throat. He felt like he was going to choke, or possibly vomit. Either way, eating would probably only make him worse. 

“No, Mama,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not hungry.” 

Her face fell and what was left of Yuri’s heart fell with it. He had always hating upsetting his mama. She lay a worrying hand on his cheek and it took everything Yuri had not to push away. Human contact was almost as nauseating as food right now. 

“Are you feeling well, Pet? You don’t look good.” 

Yuri plastered a smile on his face. His headache was coming back in full force. “I’m fine, Mama,” he lied. “Really. Didn’t Mari say there were chores you needed me to do?” 

Mama pulled away, frown lines creasing her forehead. “If you say so, Pet. But if you need anything, a break or some aspirin or anything, you tell me right away, okay?” 

He nodded sharply. “Okay, Mama.” 

She smiled, and he smiled too. 

_Mama had the best smiles,_ he thought. 

“I do need you to clean up the dishes in the dining room,” she said. “Business has been good lately and we have a lot of guests. When you’ve finished, come see me and I’ll tell you if there’s anything else I need you to do. I know you’re probably itching to go practice.” 

Yuri nodded, but his insides were quickly painting themselves into a picture of dread. He had come home so he wouldn’t have to skate in St. Petersburg, where he didn’t belong, but he couldn’t even begin to wrap his mind around the prospect of jumps and steps and skating. He thought that maybe the part of him that had fallen in love with all of that was still snagged on the ice that Victor had shattered. 

He couldn’t tell anyone this, though. He was skater; they expected him to skate. If he let himself come back from St. Petersburg without Victor or skating or any of it, with the simple implication that it had all been pointless, they would never understand and none of Yuri’s relations with these people, who were all as good as family, would ever be the same again. 

Not to mention, he didn’t think he would ever forgive himself. All of the past year, Victor coming here and training and teaching Yuri and Yuri winning gold at the Finals would have been for nothing. That prospect furthered the void in the place where his heart had been a little further. He would skate again. He had promised himself that he was winning gold this year and he meant it; he wasn’t going to let anything get in his way, even this current unease of his towards skating again. He would get past this like he had worked past so many trials and roadblocks in his life, with patience and perseverance, and in the end, he would come out successful. 

He cleared the dishes in the dining room even though the site of food pushed more and more bile up his throat. He smiled at the guests when they smiled at him, and made pleasant conversation when they spoke to him. He could do this. He was okay. Everything was going to be okay. When he finished, he found his mama in the laundry room and she released him for the day. He changed and packed up his athletic bag with a fierce sort of determination and set of at a jog towards the Ice Palace. 

As he crossed the bridge, he heard the old fisherman call and ask him where his friend was, but Yuri ignored him and pressed on faster. The buildings of Hasetsu that Yuri passed on his way to the Ice Palace were far from the gleaming beauty of St. Petersburg, but they were different enough that Yuri was able to find a solace in the passing storefronts, and his heart lifted. He could do this. He would be okay. Everything would be okay. He was going to work hard and win gold at the Final this season. He knew it. He could feel it in his bones. 

Yuuko-chan was waiting at the front desk for him, as always, and she smiled when he walked in. It was almost like if he had never left. 

“Yuri!” she cried. “Minako told me you were back but I didn’t believe it! How was St. Petersburg?” 

He shrugged, and Yuuko-chan understood, just like always, and didn’t press him on it any farther. 

“The rink’s open right now, so I can put you down for as long as you want, okay?” 

He nodded as he moved past her. He could see the rink through the glass doors behind the desk. He was almost through them when he paused. “Yuuko-chan?” he asked. 

She looked up at him, still smiling, and waited for him to go on. 

“Thank you,” he said. She nodded, and he knew she understood that he wasn’t just thanking her for the rink or the time or the place to practice; he was thanking her for not pressing about St. Petersburg and Victor and everything that had gone wrong in his life over the past few weeks that he had been gone. 

He sat on the bench outside the rink where he had sat so many times before, where Yuuko-chan had first told him about Victor Nikiforov, and laced up his skates. They weren’t anything flashy, just standard blades and plain black leather worn down constantly over the years, but they were his, and they had taken him through so much. Victor had offered to buy him a new pair once; Yuri was glad now that he had turned his ex-fiancé down. He didn’t know how he would be able to get through all this heartbreak to the gold without them. 

He considered the ice for a moment through the plastic barriers before he got up. What if it was different? What if, by learning to speak to the ice in St. Petersburg, Yuri had forgotten how to speak to the ice here? He huffed out a breath and pushed himself to his feet. He could do this. He would. He hesitated just a moment before stepping out onto the ice, but once he was pushing off, all his worries were pushed aside. 

The ice practically sang to him under his skates. It welcomed him back with a ferocious cry that followed Yuri around the rink through lap after lap after lap. A breeze ruffled through his hair with the speed he was picking up and he spread out his arms, closed his eyes. It was almost like if he was flying when he skated like this. He made the turn without opening his eyes and the next and the one after that. He more than just _knew_ this ice; he had been raised on it. It had fed him strength and hope when he had been feeling at his worst and he had given back everything he had. How many times had he slipped and fallen as he figured out how to really _skate_ and the ice had been there pushed him back up again when no one else was there to give him a hand? How many times had he spilled his own blood on this ice as he struggled to learn the hard way and how many time had the ice pushed its own blood back into him and onto his clothes in those moments? 

Yuri laughed, louder and brighter and clearer than he had in a long time. He couldn’t help himself. Here he was at last, after having been away for so long, and the ice was calling to him, singing under his skates and in his blood saying _home, home, home._

He pulled himself back to the center at long last and started the long spin he liked to finish with. He opened his eyes and he turned round and round and round and watched the rink rush by him in a blur, but he didn’t grow sick or tired or dizzy. After a while, he lost his momentum and slowly came to a stop. He laughed again, but it was quieter this time. He was _home_. He was right where he had always belonged, in the center of the ice in the Ice Castle of Hasetsu, and this ice had always known it even if he had forgotten. It seemed inevitable now that he had beaten Yurio on this ice nearly a year ago; this was his ice, his home. Yurio had intruded on something he could never possibly begin to understand. 

But where to go now? He had—rather clumsily, he thought—worked out something back on his secret rink in St. Petersburg. A song had come on over the loudspeakers one night and something in it had spoken to Yuri the same way the ice did. It had reminded him, in fact, a little bit of his story with Victor too. The loss he was feeling even as he worked so hard to hold everything together. He had asked the girl what it was and she had looked it up for him: Be Together by Major Lazer. 

Her nose had crinkled when she said it. 

“An American band,” she had clarified in English when Yuri had looked at her with an unspoken question in his eyes. Yuri hadn’t spoken enough Russian and she hadn’t known any Japanese at all, so they had settled for English as their middle ground. 

He had nodded, and then had gone to get his phone and earbuds. It had taken him no time to look up the song and download it, and from there, he had listened to it over and over and over as he had skated around the rink, trying to figure out how he would have to choreograph it. It was too long for the short program, but the last minute was just a repeat of the chorus, so he could cut that off and get it down to the standard time. He’d email Theia, the girl who’d written the music for his free program last season, to see what she thought of that, but he had a feeling it would work. 

Night after night, he had worked through it, feeling out the right places in the music for step sequences and jumps. The ice had whispered suggestions here and there, and he had listened to them. If he couldn’t trust the ice he skated across, then he may as well have stop skating. After a few nights, he had managed at last to tell the story of how he and Victor in a succinct two minutes and fifty seconds. The finer points of the choreography needed work, but he felt good about it. Finally, he was owning up to everything, even it depressed him a little. But skating the truth of his and Victor’s relationship had made it more real to Yuri than anything else, and he thought now that with his confession had come the time when things between he and Victor had begun to unravel even faster. 

He skated to the edge of the rink now and pulled his phone and earbuds out of his bag. He flicked through the music until he found the song then went back to the middle of the rink and got to work. He pushed against the ice and the ice pushed back, and with every moment, he relived the truth of his final weeks with Victor in St. Petersburg.


	9. Loss: Chapter 9

When some little kids, here for a novice lesson, started filling the bench outside the rink, Yuri at last called it a day. Yuuko-chan was still sitting at the desk; he was briefly surprised at the realization that she had been there all along and had known to leave him alone to practice. She glanced up from her phone when he walked by and smiled. 

“I was just about to come get you,” she said. “How was it?” 

Yuri grinned. “Better than ever.” 

She squealed. “Oh, Yuri, I’m so glad.” She hesitated a moment and the still-new heart that had regrown in Yuri’s chest while he skated threatened to drop out on him in anticipation of whatever she was about to say next. 

“I’m sure you already know this,” she said slowly, “but we’ve all been so worried about you. First you go to St. Petersburg and slowly stop talking to us and Yurio tells me you’ve been just terribly at practices and now you’ve come back suddenly without Victor…” 

She trailed off and Yuri looked down at his shoe laces. His phone was still clutched in one hand, his earphones dangling down a little. Yuuko-chan reached forward and squeezed his shoulder. 

“If you don’t want to talk about it now,” she said, “you don’t have to, but whatever you’ve been going through, Yuri, I’m here for you, we’re all here for you, and if you need someone to talk to, I’m always here.” 

His juvenile heart hesitated, then dived into the nest beat. It would hold. If anything, it was strengthened by Yuuko-chan’s honest solidarity. 

Yuri raised his head and looked back at her. “Thank you, Yuuko-chan,” he said. He paused as he considered. “I’m not sure I’m ready to go over everything now,” he said slowly. His heart still ached a little from the story he had just made it relive over and over and over. “But I think I will be, soon. With a little more time.” 

He smiled, and she smiled wider because of it. 

“Yuri,” she said, throwing her arms around him. “It’s good to have you back.” 

“It’s good to be back,” he said as he pulled away and they grinned at each other. Despite everything, she was still his best friend. She was still Yuuko-chan. 

He walked back home, feeling a little lighter. His heart beat out a steady new rhythm in his chest. It was a new day, and Yuri was back in Hasetsu where he had belonged. He had slept through the entire night and he had just had the best official practice he had had in what felt like forever. Even though he had lost Victor, he couldn’t help but feel optimistic. He could do this, and it would be beautiful when he did. 

OOO

Mama was cooking lunch when he walked into the kitchen, and he took a moment to breathe in the steam and the smell of everything sizzling on the burners. This too, felt more real than anything in the last month or so had. He smiled, and when Mama looked up at him over her pot, she smiled too.

“Hungry, pet?” she asked, and Yuri responded with an eager nod. 

“It smells fantastic.” 

She reached over and patted his cheek. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Pet. I was worried about you.” 

Yuri settled down in front of the table. “I know, and I’m sorry Mama; I don’t know what happened.” 

She dropped a bowl in front of him and rubbed her hand through his hair. “You lost yourself for a little bit, but you’ve found your center again, and whatever heartbreak you’ve been through in finding it, Pet, I know that you’ll be stronger for it now.” 

Yuri smiled up at his mama and she patted his head one last time. 

“Eat,” she said, pointing to his bowl. “You worked hard today, I can tell.”


	10. Loss: Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on posting this until tomorrow morning, but that last one was super short, so here you go. :)

Each day passed on in a similar fashion. He woke up in the morning and did chores around the hot springs, then went to the Ice Castle and trained for as long as Yuuko-chan would let him. After that, he came and had the lunch then Mama made him, did a few more chores, and then he was off again, either running and training around Hasetsu or visiting Minako at the ballet studio. She helped him a little bit with the choreography for the short program he was working on, but she kept reminding him that she couldn’t be certain that something was working until she saw the whole piece played out on ice. The short program about he and Victor, however, was one of Yuri’s most closely guarded secrets. He had asked Yuuko-chan to not interrupt him when he practiced it, and although she was puzzled, she agreed. 

Yuri hadn’t yet been able to tell anyone the long story of what had happened between he and Victor in St. Petersburg, but he did eventually manage to tell Yuuko-chan the short version. Her voice when she had thanked him for opening up had been rough and Yuri had slipped away before she could say any more. It felt strange to let other people in on his heartbreak, and stranger still to have them sympathize with him over it. 

Along with everything else, he had found another song that he was toying with using for the long program. One of the triplets had been fiddling with the rink’s radio one day during his warm-up laps and before he sent them all away and had landed on an American station. This song was far quieter confession than the one he had planned for the short program, but he liked the contrast. It was unexpected, and if he had learned anything from Victor, it was the need to surprise people. He was thinking the theme for this season, with both of the programs he was working on shaped around his and Victor’s failed relationship, would likely be loss, but he hadn’t decided if these programs were something he wanted to share with others. It was one thing to admit to his family and friends everything that had happened—something he still hadn’t fully done—but to confess it front of an audience? That would be even harder. 

Beyond that, there was the problem that Yuri had stubbornly avoided since returning to Hasetsu, which was that of a coach. He had planned on sticking with Victor this season, but that was clearly out of the question, and he didn’t want to go back to Detroit and Coach Celestino; now that he had settled back into Hasetsu, he was determined not to leave. That truth alone was going to make finding a coach—once Yuri decided to look for one, that was—even harder. Skaters picked up and moved for coaches, not the other way around. Victor had been an anomaly, and Yuri couldn’t count on a coach wanting to move to Hasetsu, let alone just deciding to up and leave their own home to come here and train him on a whim like Victor had. 

He had gotten lucky last year, he thought bitterly, and he had thrown it all away without stopping to think about the consequences. He forced himself to slow down as he moved across the ice. He needed to think about this. It was getting to be late June, and if he didn’t find a coach soon, he never would. 

It was late; he had decided to come by the Ice Castle after dinner to practice the short program choreography a little more. He’d been at it for hours, but he was far from tired. Everything about the program was really starting to come together, but it was missing something essential still and Yuri had hoped that somehow, by skating at night, he would be able to figure out what. 

He slid to a stop and the answer collided with him. It was so plainly obvious that Yuri didn’t know how he had avoided it for so long. Victor. He needed Victor. How could he possibly expect to tell their story completely when half of it had been cut out from Yuri’s life? 

_But Victor doesn’t want to see me._ Yuri thought. _He hates me, remember?_

_I’ll make him listen,_ beat out Yuri’s heart. It was so bold in its youth, and Yuri wanted to laugh at the idea, but… But it was like the truth that had come to him a little over a month ago as he lay in his room on his first night home. He would win gold this season, and he would do it with Victor. He wasn’t quite sure of the _how,_ but the two of them would figure something out. Hadn’t Victor always met Yuri halfway when Yuri opened up to him? Hadn’t Victor said that he wanted to be with Yuri forever? 

Barely processing what he was doing, he skated clumsily to the edge of the rink and collapsed on the wooden bench. He unlaced and pulled off his skates with clumsy fingers. Victor. He was going to see Victor again, and they would talk and work everything out. It would be okay. Everything would be okay. His heart raced, faster and faster, as it pitter-patted out this new song, this bold faith, and the knots he made as he tied up his trainers were loose and messy, but that didn’t matter, he was picking up his athletic bag, he was pushing out the door… 

“Yuri!” Yuuko-chan called after him. There was deep alarm in her voice at his haste. He barely glanced over his shoulder at her. 

“I have to go!” He shouted. His heart was singing so loudly now. Victor, Victor, _Victor._

“Go _where?”_ Yuuko-chan demanded. The note of alarm in her voice had increased. Yuri laughed. 

“Home!” he sang, and his heart was singing it too and he was out the door and he feet touched the entrance and he flew over the steps leading up to the doors and he was running, running back home to Victor. He slowed as he came to the corner marking a crossroad. Left to go home and get all of his stuff, straight on to go to the train station now. 

Train station, his heart hummed. If he went home, he’d lose this momentum, or Mama would try and change his mind. He needed to get to St. Petersburg _now,_ or it would be too late. 

His bag thumped against his back as he ran. It was a chilly night, but he barely noticed. Around him, Hasetsu slipped by, but Yuri barely noticed. He pulled out his phone, fumbled to unlock it. He searched in vain for Victor’s contact information while he ran before he remembered he had deleted it in that airport somewhere in Russia, after Victor had… 

Well that didn’t matter now, and it didn’t matter that he had deleted the number; Yuri had long since memorized it. 

Victor, Victor, Victor! His heart sang. He crossed the river and went on. He struggled to hold his phone to his ear while he sprinted. It was connecting, it was connecting, and he was almost there now, not much farther… 

In the darkness, something hit him. Or had he slipped and hit something himself? He barely had time to think about it as he was thrown forward into the night. His head connected with something hard, rebounded and hit again and again. Something shoved itself into the back of Yuri’s head, where his neck met his skull, with every bounce of his head. Something sharp cut into his cheek. His glasses? His phone was tossed from his hand and into the darkness beyond. He heard a familiar voice, somewhere, say his name, but it cut off abruptly and a black like Yuri had never known before enveloped him.


	11. Rebirth: Chapter 11

## Part Two: Rebirth

An alarm was blaring somewhere. Blurry faces swam above him. 

“—He’s coming to!” Someone shouted. A hand squeezed his shoulder. The gesture reminded him of something; a smiling girl swam in his mind’s eyes but slipped away as quickly as it had come. The pressure of the grip increased and his mind was pulled back to the moment and the sirens. 

“Sir,” someone shouted. “You need to keep your eyes open; you’ve had a bad fall and we need you to stay awake. Can you do that? Sir? _Sir?”_

The faces swam again. His body jolted as whatever he was riding in hit a bump. His eyes slid closed; his head ached and it was too hard to keep them open. Darkness overtook him, and the sound of the sirens faded away. What was happening to him?


	12. Rebirth: Chapter 12

In Saint Petersburg, Yurio stared down at Victor’s phone and the call that had just disconnected. Yuri had called. Yuri, who, without any explanation, had abandoned Saint Petersburg and Victor and him, Yurio, for Hasetsu without any explanation. Victor had been upset for days. He was still upset, although he wasn’t showing it as clearly now. Only Yurio, whose trained eyes had spent so much time watching Yuri and Victor once Yuri had come to Saint Petersburg could see the difference between the Victor of two months ago and the Victor of now. Yuri, sweet, insecure, fumbling, uncertain Yuri, had broken Victor’s heart. Not just broken it, shattered it into a million tiny pieces that Yurio didn’t think Victor would ever be able to salvage. And Victor wouldn’t tell Yurio anything about how or why it had been done. Victor had adamantly refused to talk about Yuri at all these days and was prone to sudden, uncharacteristic outbursts whenever someone brought his ex-fiancé up during practice. 

“Yurio,” Victor was coming around the corner, the question of why Yurio was clutching Victor’s phone traced across his face. “What are you doing?” he called. 

Yurio deleted the call from the phone’s history with a few quick taps and set it back down on the Victor’s athletic bag again. The call had disconnected. It had probably been a mistake on Yuri’s part, a butt call, or a drunk dial. Good thing Yurio had been here to answer instead of Victor. Good thing Yurio had been here to save Victor the pain of wondering why Yuri had called him then hung up so abruptly. 

“Checking the time,” he said casually as he stepped back onto the ice. He fell easily into place next to Victor. 

“Don’t you have your own phone?” Victor asked, glancing down at him. 

Yurio blew a tuft of his long blond hair out of his eyes. “Yours was closer.” He said. 

Victor chuckled. “Alright, but if you’re going to do that, don’t let Yakov see you; he’ll keep you here longer.” 

Yurio grumbled and let Victor skate on ahead. If only his mentor knew the bullet that Yurio had just saved him from… 

Still, Yurio made a mental note to text Yuuko about it later, although perhaps not telling her exactly what had happened in so many words; Yurio didn’t want anyone to get their hopes up about Yuri and Victor reconciling if the call had indeed been an accident. 

“Yuri!” Yakov shouted across the rink. “Is this a free skate at the public park? I want to see you practicing your jumps!” 

Yurio huffed out a breath, but nevertheless threw himself into the air for a flip at Yakov’s request. Whatever was going on with Victor and Yuri, he would think about it later. For now, Yakov’s eyes were trained on him more intensely than a hawk’s on its prey.


	13. Rebirth: Chapter 13

Yuuko looked at the array of machines that beeped and whirred and did who knows what else positioned around Yuri’s bed. She should have stopped him from leaving the Ice Castle the other night. She should have gone after him. She should have done…something. Something other than text Hiroko letting her know that Yuri had been acting strangely, but he was on his way home and to let Yuuko know when Yuri got back. 

Hiroko had said she would, but as the minutes went by, Yuuko had started getting worried. The hot springs were close enough that Yuri was comfortable enough running or walking between the rink and home, even in the dead of winter. He should be back by now, shouldn’t he? Had he gotten distracted? Had he stopped to go into a shop or look at the view? When an hour went by with no news from Hiroko, Yuuko called her, and that’s when the search for Yuri began. 

They looked for more than hour in the streets of Yuri’s neighborhood. He had said he was going home, but maybe he had been sidetracked, or gone to visit neighbor, or something. In the end, however, it was the people from hospital who had found them. A boy had found Yuri unconscious when he gone to take out his dog. They’d identified Yuri based on the ID in his athletic bag, and called the family as soon as they could. He’d come to briefly in the ambulance, but had passed out again. The hospital had not managed to revive him since. Overall, they were looking at a severe traumatic head injury. They wouldn’t know the long term effects until Yuri woke up. 

But Yuri hadn’t woken up that night when the family came. Or the day after, or that evening. It had been two days and…nothing. Sometimes Yuuko thought she would be sick with the anticipation of it. Yuri would take a deeper breath than usual, and she would glance up, thinking this was it, he was coming back, but it was always just her imagination. Yuri was still out. They would just have to be patient. 

Yuuko remembered, briefly, a time when she and Yuri had been younger. Yuri had watched one of the older skaters do a jump and decided he wanted to try it out too. She had tried to stop him, but Takeshi’s teasing had only made Yuri more determined. The loud crack that echoed around the arena when Yuri had inevitably fallen and broken his arm still sent chills down Yuuko’s back sometimes. 

She should have stopped him. She had been there, and she was his best friend, and she had been so baffled by his change of mood that she had just let him go. What had she been _thinking?_


	14. Rebirth: Chapter 14

Yurio counted the days since Yuri’s call as they passed by. One, two, three, four. Victor became no gloomier or more visibly upset and continued to skate with the same despondence that had underlined his every action since Yuri had left. Yurio decided to take this as a sign that Yuri hadn’t called Victor from again, and he had almost dismissed the incidence entirely when a note came up on his Facebook feed. 

A year ago today, the banner cheerfully told him, he had gone to Hasetsu. There was the picture of him, at the train station, looking angry because he couldn’t find Victor, to prove it. 

He opened up his messages and started tapping out a message to Yuuko-chan. He went through about seven different iterations before he settled on: 

> How’s Yuri?

Dots showing that Yuuko-chan was typing popped up immediately. The reply, when it came, was far longer than Yurio had expected, and he was angry for a moment. He had only asked how Yuri was not everything he’d been up to since he’d returned to Hasetsu. Still, he started to scroll and read it and his blood went cold the farther along he went. 

> Yurio!
> 
> I don’t know who told you, but thank you so much for asking! Yuri’s condition is stable—that’s the good news. We’re still waiting for him to wake up, but the doctors have a lot of hope that he’ll make a full recovery when he does. The last few days have been a crazy waiting game, but I like to think that Yuri won’t hold out on us much longer. I’ll be sure to let you know if there are any developments!

Yurio’s chest was constricting. There was something very heavy where his heart was supposed to be. For a moment, he wasn’t sure he was breathing. He swayed, and then grabbed on the barrier around the rink to steady himself. He typed out a response as quickly as he could. 

> No one told me anything.  
>  What happened?? What are you talking about???

Yuuko-chan’s response came a little more slowly this time. 

> There’s been an accident.
> 
> No one really knows what happened, but Yuri had some sort of severe trauma to his head a few days ago on his way home from the Ice Castle. Some kid found him passed out on the ground and called and ambulance. He’s been unconscious in the hospital for four days.

Yurio counted the days backwards on his hand. That couldn’t be right. While he had been here, practicing his jumps and arguing with Yakov, Yuri…Yuri had been…the world spun dangerously. 

Another text from Yuuko-chan came in and Yurio glanced down to read it. 

> Yurio I’ve been so scared.

A second later, another one came. 

> It’s my fault. I was there that night. I should have stopped him. I should have done something.

If there was one thing Yurio hated, it was when people couldn’t handle their own emotions. He didn’t know what to do with them. They often just got even more weepy with him when he tried to get them to snap out of. The best tactic, Yurio had learned, was to evade. He kept his reply brief. 

> Just let me know if anything happens.

“Yurio!” He glanced up. Victor was right in front of him. “Yakov wants to know what you’re doing. Didn’t I warn you not to be on your phone to much during practice?” 

For a moment, Yurio was at loss for words. He should tell Victor, right? Victor deserved to know what had happened to Yuri, didn’t he? 

“Victor…” he started. 

Victor shook his head. “I don’t want to hear it. Go see Yakov. I’m surprised there isn’t steam coming out of his ears.” 

Victor took off again and Yurio stared numbly after him. 

“YURI!” Yakov shouted across the rink. 

Yurio pulled himself back into the moment and forced himself to get on the ice and skate over to his coach. 

“What have I told you about your phone when you’re supposed to be practicing, Yuri? Do you want to be great or not? Do I need to that infernal piece of technology away from you?” 

Yurio struggled to find the words to describe what had just happened to the gnarled and wizened Yakov. Would Yakov even care that something terrible had just happened to a rival skater? Yuri had skated here for a little bit, and Victor had forced Yakov to act as Yuri’s coach at the Rostelecom cup, so maybe he would. 

“Well?” Yakov asked him. 

“Yuri’s been hurt,” Yurio said quietly. “The other Yuri. He’s in the hospital. A—a friend told me he’s stable, but he’s been a coma for four days. They don’t know when he’ll wake up.” 

Yakov gaped at Yurio then glanced sharply over Yurio shoulder, presumably to where Victor was skating, ignorant of this tragedy, elsewhere in the rink. 

“Does Victor know?” Yakov asked. 

Yurio shook his head. None of this was feeling very real. “I was going to tell him, but he sent me over here. And he doesn’t like talking about Yuri anyways. He’d probably walk away the moment I said Yuri’s name.” 

Yakov frowned. He wasn’t looking at Yurio anymore; he had turned his attention back to Victor. Yurio turned and watched his friend skate too. It was hard to say the Victor was happy these days—Yuri’s loss was evident to Yurio and anyone else who knew Victor well—but at least now, skating, he looked peaceful. Determined to be okay, despite everything he’d lost in the last month. 

Yakov took a deep breath. “Unless Vitya asks about Yuri, we won’t tell him.” 

Yurio opened his mouth to object, but Yakov kept going. 

“Vitya will have enough to worry about this season without Yuri crowding his mind even more. If he is determined to stay ignorant of his former lover, then we will let him do so. Do you understand, Yurio?” 

Yakov’s eyes were foreboding. Yurio nodded. 

“Good,” said Yakov, clearly happier now that the matter was settled. “That said, I want you to keep me updated on our Japanese friend. Anything happens, you tell me. Yes?” 

Yurio nodded again. “Thank you,” he whispered. Yakov waved his sentiment away. “Now go home. You’re in no condition to skate right now. Rest. Our friend will get better. He’s strong.” 

Clearly dismissed, Yurio stepped off the ice with a final dull nod. He stopped for a moment before he walked out of the arena and looked back over his shoulder to where Victor skated on. It felt wrong not to tell him, but this was one order that Yurio was not willing to cross Yakov on. Hearing about Yuri had made Yurio feel physically ill, and he hadn’t been nearly as close to the man as Victor had. Yakov was right; it was better that Victor focus on his skating this season. They would tell him about Yuri later, when he was more himself and Victor had proved that he could make it through the season. It was the right thing to do. 

Yet, as Yurio walked out into the cool afternoon, he couldn’t help but feel he was betraying Victor is some unspoken and essential way.


	15. Rebirth: Chapter 15

Here is the story of the beginning: first there was a darkness so complete it encompassed every corner and nook and cranny of the universe, and then the most brilliant and beautiful blinding white light came and vanquished the darkness, and with that light came life once more. 

OOO

A loud clatter woke him up. Something was scraping across something else. He knew the word for it. He knew that he knew the word, but as much as he searched the empty corners of his mind, he couldn’t find it. Light washed over him. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Beside him, tall things beeped and whirred with their own clinical and precise sort of life. He was lying down on something soft, and something heavy and warm was pulled up to his chest. He searched for the words for these things, but, as before, they eluded him. 

“Hello, Yuri.” 

It took his mind a minute to find the word he was looking for to describe the thing standing in front of him. Man. This was a man. And he was a man too. There was another word to describe the…person in front of him too, but his mind found nothing as it dredged through the darkness. Maybe he was mistaken. 

He blinked at the man. The man showed his teeth—a smile, that was called a smile—back. 

“Do you know where you are, Yuri?” 

He looked around. Was there someone else in the room? But no—it was just him. 

“Who’s Yuri?” he asked. 

The man sighed. “That’s your name.” 

Oh. 

“Where am I?” he asked. 

The man smiled again, although it wasn’t as bright now. “You’re in a hospital. Do you know what that is, Yuri?” his voice was gentle, like if Yuri was a frightened…something. Animal. There it was. There was the word. Like if Yuri was a frightened animal. An image floated on the surface of his mind of a tiny brown animal with curly hair woven between fingers. His mind reached for it, but it slipped away before he could grab it. 

A hospital. Yuri considered this for a moment. His mind went searching. It came up after a moment, empty handed, dived down again. Yuri started shaking his head, but then, here it was again. A hospital was a place for sick people. He must be sick. This man was a doctor. He nodded. 

A vision came to him suddenly of being rushed through a building that his mind called a hospital a long time ago. Something had happened to his arm—he could…remember it hurting. He remembered looking down and seeing it at an odd angle, getting the mushed up remains of something that might have once been food all over the stranger standing in front of him. Yuri looked down at his arm now; it looked different than it had when he had just remembered it. He had broken it, he realized, and the doctors at the hospital had fixed it. 

He looked up at the doctor. “I broke my arm once,” he said. 

The doctor smiled, and this time it looked better. “That’s right. And we helped you then just like we’re going to help you now.” 

Yuri considered this. His mind searched for a recollection of what he had broken this time—his arm looked fine, so it wasn't that again—to bring him back here, but there was nothing. His head was starting to ache. He rubbed it. 

“Does your head hurt, Yuri?” the doctor asked. He was very…kind. He made Yuri feel safe. 

Yuri nodded absently—of everything going on, it seemed so...trivial to ask about his head—and glanced back up at the doctor. “What…what did I break this time? Why am I here? What happened to me?” 

The doctor’s face arranged itself into the opposite of a smile—a frown. 

“We were hoping you could shed some light on that, Yuri.” 

Something constricted around Yuri’s chest. “What do you mean?” 

“You’ve had an accident, Yuri. A very bad one in fact. You fell down.” 

Yuri made his face match the doctors. “I fell down?” That hardly seemed serious. He was sure he had fallen down before and been okay. 

“Well, when you fell, Yuri, you hit you head very hard, and in several different places too. We’re not sure how, but you were quite banged up when you were found. We’ve been working very hard these last few days to make sure you’ll be okay.” 

There was something wrong with what the doctor had just said. Yuri’s mind ran through this pronouncement several times before it could figure out what. The doctor had said ‘these last few days.’ Like if Yuri hadn’t just fallen and woken up a few minutes later. No, he made it sound like— 

“Days?” Yuri asked. 

The doctor nodded—solemn was the word Yuri’s mind ascribed to the doctor just then. He looked solemn. “Yes, Yuri. Your accident was several days ago.” 

That couldn’t be right…could it? Days? How had he lost days? His mind went diving one again looking for memories and came up blank. It dived again, and again, and again. With a start, Yuri realized it wasn’t just the last few days that were missing—everything was black. 

The doctor must have read the shock on Yuri’s face because he smiled again. Yuri’s mind called in “sympathetic” this time. 

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” the doctor said. 

Yuri nodded numbly. 

“Do you remember anything, Yuri?” the doctor asked. His voice was gentle like the…blanket on Yuri’s legs. That’s what it was called. A blanket. And he was half sitting, half lying in a bed. The things propped up behind him were pillows. 

“Not really.” Yuri croaked. It felt like someone was repeatedly beating Yuri’s head with one of the beeping machines—that was the word for them—that surrounded Yuri now. 

The doctor frowned again, and Yuri plunged on. He didn’t want to let this kind man down. 

“Some things are coming back. As you talk to me,” he looked earnestly up at the doctor. “That’s good, right?” 

The doctor smiled again and patted Yuri’s knee. “Yes, Yuri. That’s very good. Now, there are some people who would really like to see you, but I think we should wait a little longer and let you get some more of your strength back. You indicated that your head hurt?” 

Yuri nodded. 

“Does it feel better or worse now?” 

“Worse.” Yuri said, reaching up to rub his forehead again. 

The doctor nodded, as this was some sort of affirmation for him. “It’s probably going to hurt a lot as you get better, Yuri. You’ve had a very serious injury. I need you to let staff know whenever it does, okay?” 

Yuri nodded, taking this in. The doctor pointed to something round next to Yuri’s bed—a button. 

“Just press this if you need anybody, okay?” 

“Okay.” Yuri said. 

“Now hold out your hand.” 

Yuri did and the doctor dropped something small into it. 

“It’s medicine,” the doctor said. “It will help your head feel better. You can take it with this.” 

The doctor walked over to a counter and handed Yuri a small glass of water from it. More on instinct than anything, Yuri took the water and put the medicine in his mouth. He swallowed it down with the water. 

“Good, Yuri, very good,” the doctor said. “Now you rest. I’ll come back later, okay?” 

Yuri nodded and leaned back into the pillows behind him. The doctor walked over the window and closed the curtain shut; that’s what Yuri had heard before—the scrape of the curtain as it was pulled open. Now though, the room was shrouded in a sort of half-darkness. Light leaked in beneath the edge of the curtain. 

“Rest, Yuri,” the doctor said, pausing at the door. “You’ll feel better.” 

The door closed with a soft click. Yuri glanced at the small stretch of light below the curtain and closed his eyes. The doctor had said to rest, so he did.


	16. Rebirth: Chapter 16

Two days after Yakov had sent Yurio from the rink, Yurio’s phone buzzed with another message and Yurio lept on it in desperation. Yuuko-chan hadn’t come back with any news, and it was driving Yurio crazy. Yakov had kept him off the ice, sending him instead to work out in the rink’s gym or to Lilia’s studio. He was in the gym now, having been sent there by Yakov the moment he had stepped into the building. There was an unspoken rule that, for the time being, until Yuri woke up, Yurio would not be allowed to skate. The text, Yurio saw, was from Yuuko-chan, and he sighed in relief and opened it as quickly as he could. 

“Yuri woke up yesterday afternoon. The doctor said they talked and Yuri doesn’t remember a lot, but will probably get everything back with time. We’re going to visit him today—I’ll let you know how it goes.” 

Yurio didn’t hesitate. He scooped up his water and went flying down the hallways towards the practice rink. He slammed through the door and practically screamed Yakov’s name as he went sprinting towards his coach. Yakov looked at him sharply, and Victor, who had been talking to him, turned around. Skaters on the ice paused to stare at him too. 

“Yuri!” Yakov said. “Did I not specifically tell you—” 

“He’s up,” Yuri panted, skidding to a stop in front of Victor and Yakov. “He—” Yurio gestured vaguely. That was the fastest he had ever run. He was a little winded. 

“Yesterday afternoon. He woke up and he was—” 

It was all Yurio could do not to smile. Yuri was going to be okay. Yurio wouldn’t have to lie to Victor anymore. 

Yakov frowned. It made the already severe lines of his face harder. 

“Vitya,” Yakov barked. “Back on the ice. I want to see you do that jump combination until it’s second nature.” 

A very startled Victor returned to the ice. He glanced over at Yurio with a clear question in his eyes, but Yurio waved his hand away. He was still panting a little. 

_Later,_ he implied. _I’ll tell you later._

When Victor had skated off, Yakov turned back to Yurio. 

“So our friend is going to be okay?” he asked Yurio. 

Yurio nodded furiously. “Yuuko-chan said the doctor talked to him yesterday. Evidentially, he doesn’t remember a lot, but they’ll think it will all come back to him.” 

At last, Yakov cracked a smile. “Good. Now go get your skates and get on the ice. I have work for you to do.” 

Yurio started to move away, calmer now that he knew Yuri was going to be okay. He stopped when Yakov called his name and glanced back over at his coach. “Don’t think this changes anything, Yuri,” Yakov said. “Just because this friend of ours will likely be well in time does not mean we need to tell our other friend about it yet. Do you understand?” He tilted his head pointedly towards the ice. 

Yurio’s heart sank, but he nodded. “I understand,” he said, his mouth dry. 

Yakov nodded with one sharp jerk of his chin. “Now, skates. Your break has been long enough.”


	17. Rebirth: Chapter 17

The doctors kept Yuri at the hospital for about a week after he first woke up. People came and visited him, and although at first he struggled to assign names to faces, they helped him along and eventually he could recall them all. In between visits, the doctors ran tests with complicated names that Yuri found hard to remember and he was allowed to walk up and down the hall with a nurse. 

His balance was terrible. He often swayed when he stood up and needed someone or something to hold onto while he walked. The entire world felt like it was spinning every time Yuri got out of bed. Yuuko-chan—the girl who had said she was his best friend—was very upset when she discovered this, but when Yuri asked her why, she refused to answer. He was also very bad at words. He had learned to talk around things when he forgot what to call them, describing it or referencing a time when he had seen whatever it was he was trying to talk about. 

All in all, however, the doctors were very happy with how Yuri was doing, and they constantly told him that he was very lucky, that some similar patients had it much worse than he did. He accepted this blindly and went on trying to readjust to the world he had discovered himself in. At first, he was tired a lot and could only stay awake for short periods, but as the days wore on, he was better and better about staying awake. The window in his room had a stunning view of the parking lot, and he liked to watch people come and go when he wasn’t walking, or being tested, or visited by people he was supposed to know. 

At long last, he was allowed to go home. The woman that was his mother drove the car through the city from the hospital and Yuri stared out the window at the passing shops and streets. Every now and then, a recollection would rise to the surface of his memory, but it slipped away before he could really consider it. The girl who was his sister was in the seat in front of him. Besides him were two more women—Yuuko-chan and a woman called Minako. Yuri wasn’t really sure where he was supposed to know her from, but she, like Yuuko-chan, had looked upset when she saw how bad his balance was. 

The car stopped outside an archway: old, but still beautiful and ornate. Yuri peered out the window at the building beyond—it matched the archway. 

“We’re here!” His mother announced. 

Yuri had been told that his family owned an combined hot spring and inn, but he wasn’t really sure what that was supposed to mean. All he remembered were lots of people gathered around tables eating while he toddled among them. But he knew that an _inn_ was different than a _restaurant_ , where people went to order food in the city. A _restaurant_ was also different than a _cafeteria_ , as Yuri had discovered while staying at the hospital, but he hadn’t quite worked out how. 

“I’ll drive the car around. Yuuko would you—” 

Yuuko-chan nodded firmly and reached past Yuri to push the door open. Minako got out the other door and ran around to help Yuri get to his feet. He had proved to everyone time and time again that he couldn’t be trusted to get up from a sitting position on his own—in fact that seemed to be when the world whirled the most. 

He was pulled out of the car. The world tilted and whirled for a moment, and Yuri stumbled, but Minako was holding tightly to his arm, so he didn’t fall. Yuuko-chan followed him out and snagged his other arm. They held him steady between the two of them and faced the arch. The world stopped tilting, although it did still feel like it would fall out beneath him if he took a step. It was a warm day, and the sun was beating down on his back. His family had brought him an old t-shirt and a shorter version of pants for him to wear home. 

Yuuko-chan squeezed his arm. “Are you ready?” she asked. 

Yuri nodded. The world spun a little. He gripped Yuuko-chan and Minako’s arms a little tighter. 

“It’s okay,” Yuuko-chan said. “We’re not going to let you fall.” 

Together, they marched into the building. A crowd of people greeted him with loud cheers when he walked through the door and Yuri almost stumbled out again with the force of it. A headache was starting to throb somewhere behind his eyes. There were too many people. The room felt too hot. He felt something push its way up his throat, but he swallowed it down. He wasn’t going to be sick right now. 

He plastered a smile on his face and waved to everybody. A banner was strung up across the entryway and it took him a minute to decipher what it read. 

**_WELCOME HOME YURI!!!_**

Was he supposed to know all of these people? None of their faces looked familiar to him. Everyone was talking at once and it was hard to know where he was supposed to turn. His breathing picked up. There was just so much. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. The headache behind his eyes spread to the bridge of his nose and intensified. He didn’t feel well. Minako glanced over at him and she must have sensed something was wrong because the next thing Yuri knew, he was being forced into a chair and Minako was yelling at everyone to give him some room. 

He didn’t know how to even begin to thank her for this small mercy. He rested his head in his hands and rubbed his temples, trying to clear away the dull pounding in his head. Yuuko-chan crouched down in front of him. She put a cool hand on his shoulder. 

“Are you okay, Yuri?” she asked. 

“Give me a second,” he replied. His breathing still seemed too fast. Was his chest constricting? 

She waited patiently, rubbing her hand absently up and down his back. It helped. He started to feel a little better. He pulled his head out of his hands and leaned back with a sigh. 

“Okay,” he said. “I’m feeling better now.” 

She smiled, and he gave her a shaky smile back. His mother came into view, Mari behind her carrying a bag of the things they had brought Yuri while he had been in the hospital and the clothes he had been wearing when he had been picked up. Another blue bag was swung over her shoulders. Yuri didn’t know where she had gotten it. 

“Feeling okay, Yuri?” His mother asked. 

He was getting tired of people asking him that question. He gave a tiny nod, not big enough to set the world spinning again, and she smiled. 

“Good. Mari’s going to help you take your stuff to your room. Do you remember where it is?” 

Yuri opened his mouth to say yes and then hesitated. He could remember the _hallway_ where his room was; it was lined with windows and his door was at the very end of it, but he couldn’t remember how exactly to get to that hallway again. The realization was disheartening. He closed his mouth and shook his head. 

His mother’s shoulders slumped. She was sad, he knew. Sad because he couldn’t remember the most basic things, like the difference between a spoon and a fork or right from left, and now he had come home and they had prepared a big party for him, but there was nothing to celebrate because Yuri _still couldn’t remember._

Yuuko-chan helped him to his feet. The world spun and he grabbed onto her to steady himself. The room stopped tilting at such drastic angles and reduced itself to a sullen wobble, and he walked to Mari, hand brushing against the wall, along countertops, in case his balance gave out on him again. 

“Alright then,” he said, taking in a deep breath. He didn’t know where the welcome party had gone. “Lead the way.” 

Mari studied him for a minute, her tired eyes tracing over his face, before she jerked her head off to one side—Yuri still hadn’t been able to tell his left from his right. 

“This way, little brother.” She said. 

He followed after her, the only sound the soft pad of their feet on the wooden floor and the hiss of his hand as it ran along the wall. 

OOO

His room was small, but there was a cozy feel to it. It had the distinct traces of having been lived in. He liked it. It was a reminder that he wasn’t a ghost of some sort that had just…appeared. That had been tossed into this life. The skinny bed was pushed up against the wall underneath the window, and Yuri couldn’t help but wonder if the people-watching habit he developed during his stay in the hospital wasn’t a new habit at all. A desk was pushed against the other wall, with some sort of plant, and a round sort of thing—a globe, he realized—as well as a machine that he knew was a computer. _His_ computer, since it was in his room. 

Mari dropped the bag she carried onto the orange blanket—no, not a blanket, his mother had told him this word; it was a comforter—spread across the bed. She swung the blue bag off her shoulders and dropped that on the bed too. Yuri hesitated. 

“Is that supposed to be mine?” he asked. 

Mari looked around wildly, trying to see what he was referring to. This was one of the questions Yuri had come to ask on a regular basis, along with, ‘am I supposed to know who they are,’ and ‘am I supposed to know what this is.’ 

“What do you mean, Yuri?” She sounded tired. 

_Of course she was,_ he thought. _I’m worse than I child. All I do is go around all day, needing help to just_ walk _because I can barely do that on my own, asking what things are or who someone is when I can’t remember. It was enough to exhaust anyone._

“The bag,” he said. “I don’t…recognize it.” 

His voice tapered off towards the end. Of course he didn’t recognize it; he didn’t recognize anything these days. _Stupid,_ he scolded himself. He should have put two and two together and realized that everything that Mari was holding was his. 

“Oh,” Mari glanced down at the bag and then back at Yuri and back again. Her face was troubled, as if something not so good had occurred to her and now she was trying to work her way around it. She glanced at Yuri again. Yuri wondered what it was he had forgotten this time. 

“It’s just a bag, Yuri,” she said. Her face cleared up. Evidentially the problem had been solved. “And yes, it’s yours, but the stuff inside it isn’t really important.” 

Yuri’s brow furrowed. All he could focus on was the blue bag. “Where did I get it?” 

Mari gave him a faltering smile and put a hand on his shoulder. Yuri tore his eyes off the bag and refocused on her. “You got it a long time ago, Yuri. It’s not important. Really. Here,” she said suddenly. She hoisted it up again and carried it over to the dresser across the room from the door. She opened up a cabinet and put the bag inside. 

“Now it’s put away and you don’t have to worry about it anymore. Okay, Yuri?” 

Yuri looked at the cabinet his sister had just closed, and then back at her. Something about the look in her eyes pleaded with him to drop the subject and be agreeable. She didn’t look tired anymore; she looked sad. 

He gave a small nod. “Okay.” 

This time the smile she gave him was real. “Good. Now, are you hungry? Do you want to go back to the kitchen? Do you want me to show you around?” 

Yuri considered. It would be nice to be shown around, just so he could get his bearings, and it might help him remember some things… 

But at the same time, the headache was still persisting behind his eyes, and the prospect of lying down and sleeping it off in a bed that was supposed to be his own was tempting. 

“I think I’ll just sleep,” he said. 

Mari nodded. Before she left, she pulled Yuri into a tight hug. Her hand ran through the short hairs on the base of his neck. 

“It’s good to have you home, little brother,” she mumbled into his neck. 

Yuri stood there stiffly for a moment before he wrapped his arms around Mari and leaned into her embrace. 

“It’s good to be home,” he said, because he knew that what he was supposed to say. 

Mari stepped away, wiping something that looked suspiciously like tears from her eyes. 

“Alright,” she said. “I’m right at the other end of the hall, so if you need anything, just come find me, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

Mari nodded again and stepped through the door. She glanced back at him with shining eyes one last time before she gently closed it, and then Yuri was left alone. 

Yuri was tempted, for a moment, to scour his room for any clues of the person he was supposed to be, but his headache was pounding again. He took the bag that Mari had been holding and put it carefully on the desk chair—he’d look through it later—and pulled back the comforter. It was softer than the hospital blankets, and it looked far thicker, and warmer too. Without a second thought, Yuri lay down and pulled it over himself. In moments, he was fast asleep.


	18. Rebirth: Chapter 18

The world outside Yuri’s window was dark when he woke up. He supposed that he hadn’t eaten anything for hours, but he wasn’t hungry. All that really mattered was that everything was very, very blurry and that he was abysmally hot. He had pushed the comforter off the bed and onto the floor as he slept and the sheets were twisted between his legs. It took him a minute before he thought to open the window, and a minute longer to figure out how to open it, but he was thankful when he did. A warm breeze wandered into the cramped bedroom and dried the sweat off Yuri’s face and arms. He leaned out the window further, hoping to catch even more of the feel of the breeze on his skin and was duly rewarded. After a moment, he gave up all pretence and flopped half out the window, letting the breeze tickle the sliver of skin exposed at the base of his back where his t-shirt rode up. 

When the novelty of the relief had worn off, Yuri dragged himself back into his bedroom. Something clattered as the bed shifted. Yuri rubbed his eyes, trying to clear the blur, but it wasn’t any use. Squinting, he patted along the bed until his hand sliced itself on something sharp. A second later, a memory rose to his mind. This had happened before. He had woken up with something sharp underneath him before. His glasses. He had fallen asleep in his glasses. 

His hand was slick with something—blood, he realized, and he scooped up the remnants of his glasses in his good hand and padded towards the door. He couldn’t think of anything to put on his cut hand to stop the bleeding, let alone figure out what was bleeding in the first place, so he would have to find someone to help him. 

He fumbled with the door for a moment—it was hard enough to see the latch in the dark, let alone when everything had turned into a great grey blur—and then opened it. Before him stretched the long hallway. He had no idea how to get around this building. 

But what was it Mari had said? Her room was at the end of the hall. He could go to her; getting to the end of the hallway was easy; it was just a straight path. The house around him was completely silent. He couldn’t even hear the crickets chirping outside from here. There was something eerie about it. He reached the door at the end of the hallways. He made to knock with his good hand, but with the sharp pieces of his glasses cradled inside it, he didn’t think that would be a good idea. He knocked clumsily with his bleeding hand instead. A second later, a light flicked on in the room; it shown through the thin paper of the door. A blurry figure that had to be Mari slammed the door open. 

“Yuri?” she mumbled. Her blur moved, and Yuri thought she might be rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

He held up the broken pieces of his glasses. “I fell asleep wearing them and they broke.” He held up his bloody hand. “And then I cut myself trying to pick them up.” 

“Oh, Yuri,” she said and her shoulders slumped. Something inside Yuri prickled at being so helpless. 

“Come on,” Mari said. “I’ll clean you up.” She stepped past him and started down the hall. Yuri followed along, squinting to see where she was in the darkness. She led him to another door, which she opened. She flicked a switch somewhere and light flooded into the hall and over Yuri from the room. He took a hesitant step in. If he had thought that grey and black blobs before were awful, white ones were even worse. Mari grabbed his shoulder and steered him towards one of the blobs. She pushed him down and he sat on what felt like the lid of a toilet. He must be in the bathroom. Mari turned a tap somewhere. She grabbed his bleeding hand and held it under the water. It felt strange, Yuri reflected, as the water rushed over the cut, how suddenly he could become so acutely aware of something. He wanted to wince away; it was an uncomfortable sensation. 

“Keep it there,” she ordered when she let go a minute later. Yuri listened to her scramble around for something and then she was pulling his hand out of the water and pressing something soft to the cut. 

“The cut’s too big for a Band-Aid,” she explained, “so I’m putting gauze on it. It doesn’t look too deep, thank goodness, but you need to remember to be more careful Yuri, okay?” 

“Okay.” He echoed. 

Mari finished wrapping something tightly around his hand and then set it back in his lap. She then picked up his other hand, which was still carefully holding onto the broken remains of his glasses, and tipped his hand so they all fell into the trash. The sounded with little clinks as they hit the bottom. 

“That takes care of that,” she said. “Unfortunately, I can’t do anything about getting you new ones right now—those were your spare pair—but I’ll take you to get new ones first thing tomorrow, okay?” 

“Thank you, Mari,” he said, taking back his other hand. They stayed like that for a while, Yuri sitting complacently on the toilet, Mari leaning against the sink, both considering the state of their lives, until Mari finally turned around and flipped off the tap. 

She helped Yuri to his room, clutching his arm to support him even though he insisted—truthfully—that he felt surprisingly steady. When they got there, she flicked on the light. He stood by her while she searched his bed to make sure there weren’t any more pieces of his glasses left for him to cut himself on. When she finished her inspection, she gave Yuri another tight, quick hug, then left, quietly urging him to rest as she shut the door. 

The problem with her order though, Yuri thought as he plopped down on the bed again, was that he was tired of resting. He had rested all the time in the hospital and he had just woken up from a really long nap. He didn’t want to go back to sleep. He was awake now. He wanted to keep being awake. What time was it anyways? He started padding around his room for his phone so he could check the time—he had a computer, and he had seen all of his visitors with phones, so he knew he must have one somewhere. When he couldn’t find it on his desk, he upended the bag that Mari had brought him back from the hospital and searched through his things. Still nothing. 

He leaned back on his heels and considered the blurry and crooked lines of his room. Surely he had a phone somewhere? Hesitantly, Yuri scooted over and opened up the cabinet where Mari had stowed the blue bag earlier. He pulled the cabinet door open carefully and the slid the bag onto the floor. He felt like he was doing something wrong; like if any moment, someone would come bursting through the door and yell at him for looking at things that Mari had told him to leave be. 

When he upended the bag, two large blobs that could be shoes clunked out, and then a soft blur that had to be a pile of clothes and a small hard something that had to be a container of some sort. He held it up closer to his eyes and examined it. Something clear sloshed around inside it—water. He tossed the clothes aside—they were meaningless to him, and he needed to find his phone—but he paused when his hands brushed the shoes. They were like boots…but not. Soft black beaten down leather, but the heels were made of something harder. Something that felt like knives were attached to the bottom. He traced the edge of them with his finger pads. His mind dove down and tried to find the word for these things, but was coming up empty. 

“Knife-boots,” Yuri pronounced to the empty room after a moment. It didn’t feel right, but he didn’t know what else to call them either. They seemed highly impractical, and a part of Yuri wondered what they could possibly be used for, but every other fiber of him resonated with how wonderful they felt in his hands, how worn and…deadly? Clinical? He couldn’t think of the right word. The metal of the knives was cool beneath his fingers. He slid one boot on, and then the other,and fumbled a little with the laces before he figured out how to tie them on properly. Straightened his legs out in front of him, he tapped his toes together. The blades made muted clicking noises when they tapped together. 

Clearly, these were his. For one thing, they had been in his bag, but beyond that, they hugged his feet perfectly, were worn in all the right places and hard and supportive where they needed to be. Even if he didn’t know what they were, Yuri loved them. He pulled them off and put them aside. He wanted to ask someone what they were, but Mari had practically insisted that Yuri forget about the blue bag earlier today, and Yuri didn’t want to upset her. She had bandaged his hand so neatly, after all. 

After a moment, he picked the comforter up off the floor and climbed back into bed. He could still feel the breeze from the open window playing over his face a little. He couldn’t ask anyone about the knife-boots, but he would ask them about his phone tomorrow. It seemed impossible that he hadn’t found it in all the places he looked. And tomorrow too, Mari would take him to get glasses. Yuri sighed and closed his eyes. Tomorrow. He could wait until tomorrow to get answers.


	19. Rebirth: Chapter 19

“Yuri’s home,” Yurio duly told Yakov at practice. His coach barely looked up from the pile of papers he was flipping through. 

“Good,” Yakov grunted. “And call him ‘our friend,’ remember. We don’t need certain someone to overhear us.” 

Yakov’s eyes lifted to where Yurio knew Victor was stretching along the side of the rink. 

“His balance is shit, apparently,” Yurio added. 

Yakov’s gaze flicked over to Yurio. “Is this going to be a problem for you?” he asked. 

Yurio scowled. “No. I’m just letting you know. You asked for updates. And besides, even if it was a problem, there’s nothing I can do about it, can I?” 

Yakov turned back to his papers. “Will he skate this season?” 

Here, Yurio hesitated. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. Yakov returned his focus to Yurio. 

Yurio took a deep breath before he plunged on. “Yuuko-chan said Yuri—” 

“Our _friend.”_ Yakov objected. 

Yurio’s scowl deepened. “She says he hasn’t asked anyone about skating at all, or brought it up. All day long apparently it’s ‘what’s this?’ and ‘who’s that?’ and ‘I remembered this!’ but so far, there hasn’t been a peep about anything even remotely resembling or related to skating.” 

“Hm.” Yakov grumbled. 

“And if his balance is shit,” Yurio continued, “it could be that even if he wanted to skate, he couldn’t, or at least he wouldn’t be anywhere near the level he needs to be at to skate competitively, and then there’s the fact he doesn’t even have a coach—” 

Yurio’s breaths were coming faster now. Yakov cut him off by slamming a hand down on the rim of the barrier. Out of the corner of his eye, Yurio saw Victor look up. 

“Yurio, did you not just say yourself that this is a problem beyond your control?” 

Yurio glared at Yakov and Yakov glared back. 

“Well?” Yakov asked. 

“Yes.” Yurio ground out. 

“Then stop worrying about it like and old ninny and get to work! I want to see you skating! Go, Yurio! Go! Go! Go!” 

Yakov waved him away and Yurio clenched his jaw and pushed off from the wall. He had worked with Yakov long enough to know which battles to fight. Victor joined him as he passed. 

“What was Yakov yelling at you about?” Victor asked. 

Yurio tilted his chin stubbornly away. He should just tell Victor, right now, what had happened to stupid Yuri and how stupid Yakov was being and how stupid Victor had been for letting Yuri leave Petersburg in the first place and absolutely and completely stupid— 

“Kitten, are you crying?” Victor asked. There was something close to alarm in his voice. 

Yurio whipped his hands furiously across his eyes. “No,” he snapped. 

Victor stared at him for a second, and the next thing Yurio knew, he was being forcibly dragged off the ice by the older man and out of the arena. Yakov shouted in protest, but Victor silenced him with a look. A moment later, Victor had shoved Yuri down onto a bench in the men’s locker room. 

“What’s going on with you?” he demanded. 

Yurio stared incomprehensibly at Victor; his blue eyes were filled with fury. 

“I asked you what’s going on? First Yakov sends you home early from practice, then he doesn’t let you anywhere _near_ the ice for two days, and now you’re _crying_ of all things, Yurio, after Yakov’s yelled at you for moping next to him during practice. Not to mention how you’re practically attached to your phone these days. What’s going on?” 

Victor stepped back and crossed his arms. Rage was written in every line of his body. Yurio didn’t think he had ever seen his friend this mad before, not even after Yurio had kicked him in the back repeatedly and told Victor essentially that Victor wasn’t as big of a deal as he thought he was. 

“Answer me, Yuri!” Victor screamed. “I’m trying to—” 

Victor choked on whatever he was going to say next and buried his face in his hands. A second later, Yurio realized that Victor was crying. He hesitated a moment and then— 

“A friend of mine had a really bad accident,” Yurio told the floor quietly. “We met a few years ago at a competition, and I was sort of terrible to him, but he never seemed to mind. We haven’t talked for awhile, but his…sister texted me last week about what had happened. Yakov found out and didn’t want me skating because he didn’t think it would do any good for me to skate while my mind was somewhere else, but when things started looking up, he let me back on the ice again. Then today I find out that my friend is back home, but it may as well not matter because his balance is so messed up, he’ll probably never skate again and—” 

Yurio sucked in a deep breath. He really was crying. He could feel the tear tracks running down his cheeks. A droplet landed on the back of his hand. 

_What the_ hell? _He_ never _cried!_

“Kitten, I’m so sorry,” Victor said after a moment. His voice was gentle, consoling. Yurio didn’t want to be consoled; it was a step away from being pitied. He shot to his feet. 

“Yeah, well, it is what it is.” He moved to step past Victor, but Victor grabbed Yurio's arm before he could walk out the door. 

“Is there anything I can do?” Victor asked. His eyes went wide as something occurred to him. “It’s not—it's not anyone I know, is it?” 

Yurio’s stomach dropped out, but he kept his face clear of emotion. If he told Victor, Yakov would kill him. Victor needed to be able to focus on this season, not Yuri. He met Victor’s eyes and yanked his arm free. 

“You want to help? Leave me the hell alone! And no,” he added, turning away again, “you don’t really know him at all.” 

Yurio stalked out of the locker room and back into the rink. He skated a furious lap and made a jump right in front of Yakov, but the man was too immersed in his papers to notice. When Yurio had landed again, Victor had rejoined the crowd on the ice. 

Yurio made a point to stay well away from him for the rest of the day.


	20. Rebirth: Chapter 20

The next morning, Yuri blinked blearily awake. Everything was painted a hazy grey under the uncertain light of the dawn shining through his window. He dragged himself out of bed and stumbled down the tilt-a-whirl hall to find Mari. He needed glasses. 

He knocked on Mari’s door, then leaned his head against the warm glass of the window while he waited for her to answer. His head didn’t ache so much today as it felt sore; as if all the aching yesterday had been a strenuous workout he had put his brain through and now he had to suffer the consequences. The floor tilted towards the windows and he reached an arm across the hall to steady himself against the opposite wall. It swung back in the other direction and he held the window frame with a white knuckled grip to keep himself in place. Where was Mari? He knocked on her door again. 

“Yuri?” It was Mari’s voice, behind him. 

Yuri turned around and opened his eyes up wider, as if that would help him see better. She must have just come from the bathroom; she was holding a blur that looked like a towel in her hands. 

“Glasses.” He mumbled. 

“Right,” she said, hurrying towards him. When she reached the spot where he clung to the walls, she looked him up and down. He hadn’t bothered to change into pajamas the night before, although he had found some under his pillow when he had gone back to bed, and he was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. 

“Is this okay?” he asked. 

“Yep,” Mari patted him on the shoulder. “Why don’t you go wait in the front hall while I change? I’ll be out in a sec.” 

Yuri gaped at her. 

“Down the hall, turn at your bedroom, and then it’s a straight shot past the bathroom. Can you do it?” 

The floor of the hallway was now shifting and turning in several different directions at once. Yuri nodded firmly and immediately regretted it. 

“Yes,” he said. 

“Good,” Mari replied. She slipped past him and into her bedroom. 

He took a moment to regard the hallway, the way the smear of the carpet seemed to seep up the walls and windows down onto the floor. He could do this. He wanted to be able to do this. He didn’t want to be the helpless thing that everyone thought he was. He took a step and only just managed to catch himself before the sliding floor almost deposited him on the ground. He took a deep breath. Steadied himself. Closed his eyes to shut out the visual of the way the blurry hall moved. Took another step, and another. Everything was leveling out now; the floor stopped feeling like it was about to start spinning under his feet. 

With great effort, Yuri made it to the front hall. It was devoid of people and dimly lit, but sunlight was starting to come in through the windows. He could hear the clatter of patrons eating their breakfast in some nearby room. His stomach rolled. For some reason, the thought of eating made him sick. Yuri found a chair-blob and settled into it, leaned his head against the wall. He had just woken up, but the trip down the hallway had exhausted him. He distantly wondered if he would have to live in an unsteady world for the rest of his life. He hoped not; it was hard enough to keep track of everything already. He couldn’t afford to deal with another complication. 

Still the doctors had assured Yuri and his family that most of the effects of his accident would only be temporary; his memories would come back in time and his balance likely would too. He just had to be patient. 

Yuri wondered if the doctors had ever had to patiently wait for the world to return to its natural order after it had been turned upside down. Somehow, he doubted it. If they had, they would know that being patient when he struggled with even the basics of life was next to impossible. 

Mari walked in a moment later fully dressed; clearly, she had had no trouble with the shifting floor of the hallway. She helped pull Yuri to his feet and kept a hand on his back to steady him while the world swayed with the force of him standing. When he felt steady enough to walk, she helped him outside to the car and drove him to the eye doctor. 

The eye doctor’s place was in downtown Hasetsu underneath the shadow of the castle. Mari explained that Yuri had been coming here since he was nine. She told him the name of the doctor, which he promptly forgot, and then led him into the building. An electronic bell sounded as he walked through the door, and a contraption hanging in the entryway chimed in the draft the door made as it shut. A wind-chime, his mind supplied. The woman sitting at the front desk looked up at Mari and Yuri came in. 

“Yuri!” she cried. He could hear the smile in her voice. “And Mari! How good to see you both! Did you have an appointment today?” 

Beside him, Yuri thought he saw Mari shake her head. “Yuri just needs a new pair of glasses,” she said. “He broke his spare pair last night.” 

The woman came around from the back of the counter to stand in front of them. She leaned closer to Yuri and peered at him. 

“And how did you do that, dear?” she asked. 

“I fell asleep in them,” Yuri said. He felt ashamed. From what it sounded like, he had worn glasses most of his life. How had he managed to forget to do the simplest of tasks and take them off before he had curled up for a nap? 

The woman chuckled. “Happens to the best of us, dear. Now, right this way.” 

The shame in Yuri’s chest eased a little and he allowed Mari to lead him, one of her hands on the small of his back, down the hall after the woman. Yuri trailed one of his hands along the wall to help him keep his balance. The wallpaper was rough and ridged underneath his fingertips. He liked it. It grounded him. 

“I’m just going to check over your eyes, dear,” the woman was saying, “to make sure your prescription is still good.” 

They followed the woman into a room and Mari sat Yuri down into the designated chair. The woman ran a series of tests, asking Yuri to tell her how well he could see letters on a chart across the room as she changed lenses in the contraption she set in front of him. Yuri, used to doctors putting him through tests by now, endured the entire ordeal patiently. At the end, the woman printed him out a piece of paper with his eyeglass prescription on it. 

“You’re astigmatic, dear,” she said, “just like you’ve always been. It makes things a little more complicated, but it’s not wholly uncommon.” 

Yuri looked down at the paper, with all its blurry writing, and then back at Mari. The woman scurried out of the room. 

“What does that mean?” Yuri whispered to Mari. 

Mari chuckled. “It means you can’t see for shit.” 

At that, Yuri chuckled too, and then Mari helped him to his feet and they were walking back down the hall towards the entrance again. 

“You can pick out your new frames over here,” the woman was saying. She cut off as she looked back over her shoulder and realized that Mari and Yuri were only just walking into the room. 

“Oh, sorry dears,” she said. “I thought you were right behind me.” 

Yuri smiled. He wished he had remembered her name; she was funny, with all her hustle bustle and motherly, but brisk, attitude. 

Yuri looked at the blurry shapes of all the glasses arrayed before him. There were so many, they took up every wall in the room. 

“There are more in the back if you don’t like any of these, dear,” the woman said kindly. “I’ll be right at the desk if you need anything.” 

She wandered off. Mari took the prescription from Yuri’s hands, and went to inspect the proffered glasses. A moment later, she returned, and stuck a pair on his face. 

“How’s that?” she asked. 

Everything swam into focus again. The soreness in his head eased. The metal frames were cool against his face. In front of him, Mari was giving him a funny smile. 

“Great,” he said. 

Mari laughed. “Not the glasses, stupid. Of course those are fine. I meant the _frames._ What do you think of them?” 

Yuri glanced about for a mirror, and found one leaning against the wall. The frames Mari had picked out for him were neat and black. Very rectangular. Skinny along the tops and wider on the sides. When he turned his head, he saw the sides—the temples, his mind told him—taper out to a neat edge that tucked behind his ear. Mari threw her arms around him from behind and tucked her head over his shoulder. It was a strange kind of hug, but he liked it anyways. It felt familiar. 

“I like these,” Mari said. “They make you look older. The last pair you had made you look like you were about twelve.” She paused and snorted. “It feels you’ve had the same frames or similar for that long, anyways.” 

Yuri studied his reflection in the mirror. Did he look older? He wasn’t certain—he had nothing to compare to. He did like the way the glasses looked though; they almost covered up the two small cuts he had around his right eye. One slanted away on the bottom, across the top of his cheek and towards his ear, the other cut through the end of his eyebrow. They would form scars one day, he didn’t know how, but he could tell. He stared at the pale face in the mirror and tried to tell himself that the person he saw was him. He reached his fingers up and touched the cuts; the man in the mirror did the same. 

Mari sighed and pulled away. “You got those the night of your accident. The doctors think your glasses shattered when you made impact, and then the shards cut into your face. They said you were lucky they missed your eye, that you could’ve been blinded.” 

Yuri turned back to Mari. She had her arms crossed like if she was holding herself together and was focused on her shoes. Was he lucky? He had narrowly avoided being blinded, but he had lost everything else that made him the person that Mari knew. 

“These are perfect,” he said. Mari looked up and smiled at him. Her eyes were watery. 

“Good.” 

He gestured back towards the rack. “Should I get a spare?” 

Mari laughed again. “Knowing you? Yes.” 

OOO

In the end, Yuri brought two pairs of glasses. First with the frames that Mari had picked out for him, and then a second pair that Mari had described as being “hipster glasses.” She had laughed when he tried them on, and had said they made him look a lot smarter than he actually was. He had taken that as a compliment and bought them. From then on, he was careful to take off his glasses every night before he went to bed or before he lay down for a nap. The trip to get new glasses with Mari had been fun, but it had also seemed to emphasize for everyone something they had already assumed: that he couldn’t be trusted to look after himself. 

Mari, or Yuuko-chan, or Minako or someone from the family went with him whenever he wanted to walk around Hasetsu and reacquaint himself with the city. Memories from his childhood came back occasionally when he would walk down a street, or see a familiar sight, but so far, there was nothing recent, and he still had no idea what he’d been doing the night of his accident. When he was home, he found that, unless he was in his own room, Mari or his mother always seemed to wander into a room right after he did. They said it was because they had chores to do there, or they just wanted to sit for a moment, but after a while, Yuri had the strong suspicion he was being watched like a child. 

The worst part of it, though, were the pitying glances people gave him as he struggled to remember a word, or it took him a while to read through something. He hated how his mother or someone else he cared about would sigh and patiently tell him the answers to his questions. Their smiles had stopped being real and gained a more tired hue whenever he opened his mouth. After a while, he just stopped asking, and looked up the answers on his computer in his own time. The blank white screen never pitied the shortcomings of his own mind. When the constant surveillance started to wear on him too, he confined himself only to the hot springs, and later, just to his bedroom. For hours and hours on end, he would sit alone, reading his old books and scrolling through the social media accounts he discovered, trying to get a glimpse of the person he was supposed to be. 

In time, as the weeks wore by, his family and friends accepted his self-imposed isolation. He supposed they figured that at least this way, he wouldn’t need constant minding. He slowly found himself staying up later and later and waking up long after everyone else had started their day as a result. On the rare occasion when he was hungry, he would wander to the kitchen and snag something to eat, usually an apple or some other fruit, then go back to his room. He located a dictionary in a dusty study somewhere in the bowels of the inn and claimed it as his own. Each day, he would search through its pages, teaching himself new words and looking for memories. Very rarely did they come. After a while, he started giving up hope that they would ever return at all. The thought made him feel sick.


	21. Rebirth: Chapter 21

Yurio burst into Yakov’s office one day after practice. The old man glanced over at him from something he had been typing on his computer. 

“Can I help you?” 

“I can’t believe it!” Yurio shouted. He started pacing across the tiny space. “He’s completely given up! Yuuko says he stays in his room most days, he doesn’t talk to anyone if he can avoid it, he’s barely eating—” 

Yurio was breathing very heavily. He had half a mind to fly to Japan right now and shake some sense into his rival. 

“Yuri!” Yakov objected. “Calm down. Breathe. What’s wrong. Is this about our friend from abroad?” 

“Who else would it be about?” Yurio roared. He continued to pace. “Everything everyone’s doing for him, everything _I’ve_ done for him; it’s all going to go completely to waste!” 

“And what, exactly, Yuri, is it that you have done for him?” Yakov asked. He peered at Yurio down his nose. “What do you intend to do?” 

Yurio sputtered. “I motivated him to get his act in gear after the Grand Prix two years ago! I beat him last year so he wouldn’t have an excuse to retire! I tried to be nice to him when he came here!” 

“Oh, was that what you were doing?” Yakov asked. “It looked to me like you were taking every opportunity to skate into him during practice, rather to your own detriment more than his, I would say.” 

“I was trying to motivate him to work harder!” 

“As his coach, that was Victor’s job, not yours.” 

Yurio seethed and continued to pace. He was going to wear a hole into the already thin carpet. 

“Yuri,” Yakov said, turning back to the computer screen. “You need to calm down. You’ve gotten yourself all worked up—” 

“Of course I’m ‘worked up,’” Yuri yelled. “I’m in a rage! This is the maddest I’ve ever been!” 

“And why?” Yakov yelled back. Yurio stepped back. “Because your friend is not doing something you think he should? He is his own man, Yuri, and one that has been through a tremendous ordeal besides! He will make his own choices, and _you must let him!_ Have you ever considered that it is a good thing that Yuri Katsuki will not be competing this year? That this is what he wants?” 

Yurio was speechless for a moment. “How could that be a good thing? He’s one of the best skaters the world! He can’t give in now!” 

“Yuri,” Yakov said quietly. “Why do you care so much about this man? By all appearances, you never seemed to like him very much.” 

Yurio thought about kicking Yuri down into the snow last year after when the man had been moping about his spectacular failure at the Rostelecom Cup. Throwing Yuri his grandfather’s katsudon pirozhki as a birthday present; the only present Yurio was sure Yuri had received that day, as he had failed to make the podium, and as everyone else Yuri knew was back in Japan. He had been furious, just as he was furious now, that Yuri had surrendered his chance at the gold. 

Yurio collapsed into one of the chairs positioned in front of Yakov’s desk. “He’s one of the best skaters in the world,” Yurio muttered again. 

Yakov turned once more back to the computer. He studied something on the page. “Who is and isn’t the best changes over time, Yuri,” he advised. “You know this. A skater’s body cannot hold out forever, and as such, he must give way to new men, more talented men.” 

“Just because they’re new doesn’t mean they’re more talented,” Yuri snorted. 

“This is true,” Yakov admitted. He typed something in; the keys made a harsh clacking sound underneath his fingers. 

“He has a world record. A world record he made over Victor’s.” 

“Mmm. But what are records if not things to be broken, Yuri?” 

Yurio looked up at his coach. “He’s the second best skater out there.” 

“I seem to recall that he didn’t even make the podium at the World Championship,” Yakov said. 

Yuri snorted. “He did that to himself. He could have beaten Victor if he had really wanted to. And I still think JJ only made it by a fluke.” 

“Think about what it is you’re implying, Yuri.” 

“I have,” Yuri said. “I don’t want to skate against anyone else; I want to skate against him.” 

“Hm.” 

“He’s the only real competition left,” Yuri continued. “All the others are arrogant assholes fueling themselves on their own ego. They don’t know what it is to really skate.” 

“And Victor?” 

Yurio swallowed and looked down at his lap. “Will have to retire eventually, if not after this season, maybe the next, but Yuri can still keep going for years; his stamina is better than mine sometimes.” 

Yakov sighed. “Then perhaps, if we are lucky, he will return to the ice someday, and be the man you believe him to be. For now, however, Yuri, you must put this trouble of yours to rest. What will be, will be. If you want to honor our friend at all, you will make yourself into the best skater you can be, so that if and when he does return, you may be worthy competition. Do you understand, Yuri?” 

Yurio stared gloomily at the edge of Yakov’s ancient desk for a moment, then nodded slowly. “I understand,” he said roughly. 

“Good. Now go home and get some rest; you worked hard today, and you’ll need your sleep if you are to meet this new aspiration of yours. Tomorrow, we shall begin the real work.” 

Dismissed, Yurio dragged himself and out to the door. He paused before he left. 

“And we’re still not telling Victor?” he asked. 

“That would be correct,” Yakov said. The keys clacked as he started typing again. “You may go.” 

Feeling helpless, Yurio left the office and alone walked down the halls and out the door of the arena.


	22. Rebirth: Chapter 22

_August in Hasetsu is unbearably hot_ Yuri thought to himself. 

He was balanced precariously on the window ledge, one arm tightly wound around the curtain to keep himself steady, trying to catch as much of the breeze as he could. His knife-boots were in his hands. He had tried looking them up, entering every possible description of the shoes he could think of into the search engine on his computer night after night, but nothing ever came up. Therefore, Yuri was intrigued. What were these shoes? What had he used them for? He liked to put them on every now and then, just to feel the way they clung so perfectly to every curve of his ankles and feet. He had stood up in them once, and his muscles had tensed and eased, balancing him immediately, remembering something his mind couldn’t. Then he’d taken a step and fallen over immediately. 

Somewhere, he could hear people talking as they ate. It was dinnertime. Yuri had snagged himself a bowl of rice earlier when he had wandered into the kitchen and found it deserted. Someone must have noticed, because no one had come to bother him about eating that evening. He was restless; he was getting tired of being cooped up in his room all day. But at the same time, he knew he couldn’t leave. Someone would ask questions, or want to go with him, and what Yuri really wanted these days was to be left alone. He glanced down at the drop from the window. His room was in the back of the house, where the land sloped up to become the mountain. Even though he was technically on the second floor, it didn’t seem like that far of a drop. 

He glanced back towards his door. No one was coming to check on him, or see if he needed anything. Everyone had grown accustomed to his tendency to keep to himself, and it had made them lax in what had once been constant surveillance. He could jump out the back window and leave now and no one would ever be the wiser. There was a tree outside his window that he could try scrambling up to get back inside when he was done wandering about. It would be so easy. 

The one danger, of course, was that the drop would lead to another accident. If it did, he could be certain that he would never be left to his own devices again. But Yuri was tired of being treated like some delicate child. He was tired of being handled with kid gloves. He was tired of everyone thinking that if he left the relative safety of the house and his room without supervision, they would lose him. 

He hesitated for a moment before he slipped off the window ledge and looked back into his room. Should he take anything with him? He still didn’t have a phone yet—he had been told he lost his old one in the accident and that they hadn’t been able to find it after. Every time he asked for a new one, he was given vague answers about going later. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out that this was a ploy to make him even more reliant on his well-meaning friends and family. 

The blue backpack—he had looked up what it was to see if that would give him any insight—was sitting on his bed, all of the clothes neatly tucked inside it. He looked down at the knife-boots in his hands. He didn’t want to let them go just yet. He reached back into his room and grabbed the bag. The world tilted, and for a moment he worried that he was going to fall, but he kept his seat on the windowsill. He deposited the shoes into the bag and closed it up. He considered the drop for a moment, then let go of the bag. It fell to the ground with a muffled clunk. Yuri took a deep breath, and then he followed. 

He was a little surprised, even as his knees buckled from the forces of impact, how easy his escape from his room had been. He paused for a moment, waiting to see if he would be caught, if Mari or someone would lean out his window and ask him what it was, exactly, he thought he was doing. When no such thing happened, he scooped up his blue backpack from where it had fallen on the ground and threw it over his shoulders. The world spun for a moment, but Yuri steadied himself by grabbing onto the rough bark of a tree branch. When things had calmed down, he headed off again, sticking close to the wall that surrounded the property. He peered back at the entrance when he reached the gate, but no one was there, so he slipped out uncontested. 

He tried to walk casually at first, but then the excitement of what he had just done overcame him and he sped up, faster and faster until he was sprinting. He couldn’t help but laugh too, drunk on his freedom as he was. He let his feet guide him until he got a stitch in his side and he slowed down. He was on a bridge. He could hear the river rushing beneath him. He paused for a moment on one of the outlooks. A memory brushed by him, the sound of someone saying hello, but it was gone before he could really grab onto it. In the distance, he thought he could see the dark outline of the island out in the bay. Where to go now? 

He pulled away from the light post he had been leaning on, the world tilted, but he waited, one hand on the pole, and it went right side again. He kept walking. Maybe he would see something familiar. 

As it was, Hasetsu by night was not much different that Hasetsu by day. As his wandering feet led him through the city, he recognized nothing beyond the buildings he had passed on his previously chaperoned outings. He wondered, briefly, if he would be able to find his way home again, but he put that aside. He was going to ruin his freedom with the momentary anxiety that his friends and family had been right to keep him under such a close watch. 

He stopped automatically in front of a building at the base of the mountain. The ninja castle rose behind it. The building itself was spilling light from the glass front doors over the stairs that led down to the walk. It felt…familiar, somehow. Looking at this place, he got the same feeling he did when he had first walked into his room, like if this was something he could believe had been his. He glanced up at the awning, and took a moment to decipher what it read. 

“Hasetsu Ice Castle.” He read out loud. That was a curious name for a place. He looked at the steps that led up to the doors. He had been having some trouble with steps since his accident. They always felt like they were about to tilt backwards and make him fall over. He took a deep breath. He could do this. He would have to, if he wanted to know what the Ice Castle was. He grabbed onto the handrail and pulled himself up one step, and then the next. He was not going to fall; the steps were not tilting down. He could do this. He could. 

What felt like an eternity later, Yuri reached the top landing. The golden light was spilling over him now too. He took a nervous step forward, and pushed the door open. What would he find inside? His heart was pounding with anticipation. 

“Yuri!?” Yuuko-chan was sitting at a desk across the entryway. She looked surprised to see him, but at the same time, there was something in her smile that said she’d been hoping he’d come. Long benches stretched between the two of them. Yuri’s breath caught. If he ran now, would he be able to make it back to the Inn before she sounded the alarm? 

“Hey, Yuuko-chan,” he stuttered out. He would stay. It didn’t matter what happened now, he was caught. Why had he ever decided to come inside the Ice Castle? Yuuko-chan squealed and ran around the counter. To Yuri’s great surprise, she hugged him tightly instead of reprimanding him for leaving the safety of the house alone. 

“Are you here to skate?” She asked excitedly. “Oh, I just knew you’d remember and come back! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!” “What?” He asked. 

Yuuko-chan’s excitement immediately vanished. “Don’t you remember?” 

Yuri looked at her blankly. Crap. _Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap._ What important aspect of his previous existence had he failed to recall this time? “No…?” 

Yuuko-chan frowned, and now it did look like she was going to tell him off. “But you’ve got your athletic bag and everything.” 

“My…what?” He asked. 

“Your athletic bag,” she reached forward and tugged on the strap of his backpack. “You know, Yuri,” she said slowly, urging him to reach where she was headed on his own. “Your athletic bag? For skating?” 

Yuri stared at her blankly, and then his eyes widened with realization. “Ice skates!” He shouted. “They’re ice skates! I ice skate! I’m an ice skater!” 

He could remember being a little kid, standing in front of her on the rink. He wanted to show her a move he had come up with, but a younger Takeshi had teased him and he’d slipped. Yuuko-chan had been furious with her future husband. 

Yuuko-chan laughed at his enthusiasm over this discovery. “Yes,” she said. “You do and you are.” 

Yuri hesitated. “Can I…?” 

Yuuko’s smile was bright, and she was crying a little from happiness. She gave him another tight hug. “You go right ahead.” She told him when she pulled away. Then it was her turn to hesitate. 

“Do I mind if I watch you? I know you’ve been, well…lately....” 

Yuri looked towards the doors that he knew now led to the rink. He could remember walking through them a million times as a child. His head ached a little, but he didn’t really notice. He wanted to skate. He glanced back at Yuuko-chan, and he remembered being little, and falling. He smiled. 

“Please do.” 

Yuuko-chan shrieked and Yuri stumbled backwards for a moment in surprise. 

“Okay,” she said when she had brought her happiness and excitement to more manageable levels. “Let’s go.” 

Yuri sat down on one of the benches immediately outside of the rink when he and Yuuko-chan walked through the doors. Heart racing, he pulled his worn out ice-skates from his athletic bag one at a time. His fingers fumbled with anticipation as he laced them up. He pulled on a pair of gloves he found in his bag when he was done. Yuuko-chan sat next to him, watching his movements, beating her phone restlessly on her leg. It was cold in the rink, and Yuri was only wearing his thin t-shirt. He shivered. 

“Are you okay?” Yuuko-chan asked. 

“Yeah,” Yuri replied as he stood up. He reached out and grabbed the barrier to steady himself; he could still remember what had happened the last time he had tried to walk in his skates. He took a deep breath. 

“You can do this,” Yuuko-chan whispered. 

Yuri glanced over at her. “I know,” he said, and that was all the encouragement he needed. He stepped out onto the ice. 

He was unsteady at first and slid forward farther than he had intended on the slippery ice, but then his muscles were reacting on their own as they had before in his room, keeping him steady and standing upright. Yuri spread out his arms to balance himself. He stopped sliding. 

“Let’s go Yuri!” Yuuko-chan shouted at him. 

Yuri looked back at her over his shoulder and smiled. He would be alright. If anything happened, Yuuko-chan was here to take care of it. He could remember being a child on this ice and falling a lot. He had pulled himself up then and he would pull himself up now. With a deep, shaky breath, Yuri pushed off the ice with one of his skates. The next thing he knew, he was flying. It was the best thing he had ever experienced. 

He kept pushing off his skates, one after another, propelling himself forward. He came to the edge of the rink and his mind scrambled to remember what he was supposed to do next, but his feet were already acting, lifting up and taking the turn effortlessly. The world tilted a little as he came out of the curve, and he swayed, but a moment later, his body had corrected his balance and he was flying again. Yuri took a deep breath, steadier this time. He could do this. He would be okay. 

Everything would be okay. 

He was distantly aware of Yuuko-chan still by the door, leaning over the barrier. He thought she was cheering, but she might have been crying. It was hard to tell, and he was too focused on skating. The next curve came up and Yuri sucked in a breath in preparation. He took this one faster than before, and this time his mind came up with a memory, being taught how to take turns for the first time. In the memory, Yuri slipped and fell, but here and now his feet followed the pattern the instructor had taught him perfectly. His body knew what it was supposed to be doing, even if Yuri’s mind wasn’t quite certain. 

His heartbeat slowed down. His mind surrendered to his body. He went around the rink over and over again, feeling steadier with every push of his skates against the ice. The ice hissed out a language beneath the blades that Yuri knew in his heart. He closed his eyes. He was home. 

When the ice told him to turn around and try skate backwards, he did. He fell the first time because he made the mistake of trusting his eyes more than his body, but he landed on his butt, the way he remembered being taught to do in the memory that swam to the surface of his mind, and he was up before Yuuko-chan could rush onto the ice and get him. This was harder, and he was shakier, but he did it. Round and round and round. More memories were coming to him now than had come to him in the past few weeks. He never wanted to stop. 

In his mind, he could hear music playing. It sounded sad and a little lost, but hopeful too. He closed his eyes and followed it. He heard the ice tell him to jump and he kicked down his skate so the ice could lift him up. He kept his eyes closed even as he spun through the air, still focusing on the music above all else. He fell when he landed, but again, he pulled himself up again. He closed his eyes and kept going, moving his arms with the music, jumping when and how the ice told him to. He fell a lot, or stumbled, but he always got back to his feet and kept going. When the music drifted to a close, he did too, right in the center of the rink. He opened his eyes. For once, the world wasn’t spinning. He was fine. 

His gaze found Yuuko-chan. Her big eyes were swimming with the more tears like the ones that were flowing unabashedly down her face and hands. 

“You looked like you’d lost something, and you were searching desperately for it,” she croaked. 

Yuri looked down at his gloved hands. “I have lost something,” he said quietly, “but I think I might be able to find it again, and if I don’t, well then, maybe I’ll make something new.” 

She laughed shakily and held out her arms to him. Yuri pushed off, skating faster and faster, until he was flying into her arms. She held him tight, and he held on too. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

She pulled away, wiping her eyes. “For what?” 

He gestured to the ice. “For letting me do this. Mari refused to tell me what my athletic bag even was.” 

Yuuko-chan’s face relaxed into a smile. “This is an essential part of who you are, Yuri. I’d never keep it from you.” 

He looked back out at the ice. “I fell a lot,” he said. 

Yuuko-chan waved this away. “Your balance is bad right now, and that was the first time you’ve been on the ice in at least a month. That’s to be expected.” 

He looked back at her. “Did I skate a lot? I remember coming here to skate a lot when I was a kid. Skating with you. Taking lessons.” 

“You skated all the time.” 

“And I just…skated?” he asked. 

Yuuko-chan hesitated. “Well, you used to compete too, but I don’t know—” 

“Was I good?” Yuri interrupted. 

She smiled softly to herself, remembering something that he couldn’t. “One of the best.” 

He focused on the ice again. He had lost so much in the past month. He wasn’t going to let himself lose this too. More than that, he wanted to prove that even if he _had_ lost everything, he might still get something back, or build up something new. He was tired of hiding from everyone. Tired of being pitied. He wanted to be strong again. He wanted to be the kind of person who was trusted on his own. 

“Then I want to be even better than I was before,” he said.


	23. Rebirth: Chapter 23

When his phone buzzed as he walked out of practice, Yurio fished it out more on instinct than anything else. Practices with Yakov had been brutally hard since the last time he and Yurio had talked about Yuri, but Yurio thought he was keeping up pretty well. 

_Be worthy competition,_ Yakov had told him. Yurio was determined to be all that and more. 

Yurio read through the text without really comprehending what it was saying. He read it again. Then a third time. He watched the video that had been attached, once, twice. 

“YES!” He screamed. He threw a fist in the air. He was grinning, but he didn’t care if anyone saw. He needed to talk to Yakov. 

He shoved people aside and bolted down the hall, back towards the rink and Yakov’s office. He almost ran into Victor as his friend emerged from the locker room. 

Yurio tried to slip past him, but Victor grabbed Yurio’s arm and wheeled him around. 

“You look funny. Oh, you’re smiling. Why are you smiling? Who are you and what have you done with the real Yuri Plisetsky?” Victor asked. There was a laughter in his eyes, and something else too. Hope? Yuri’s stomach roiled in disgust. If it wasn’t for Victor, he never would have had to worry this much about Yuri. 

Yurio ripped his arm free of Victor’s grip. “Didn’t I tell you to leave me alone, asshole?” Yurio shouted at him. 

Victor’s jaw dropped. Yurio took advantage of his surprise and bolted away before he could be stopped again. He slammed into the doors leading to the rink without losing any momentum. Yakov was talking to someone, but Yurio ignored them. Anyone with brains would know his news was more important. 

“He skated! He wants to compete!” 

Yakov turned to Yurio, brows raised in surprise. “What?” 

Yurio turned to the other skater. “You can leave now,” he said. The skater blanched, but when Yakov nodded, he stormed out. Yurio shoved his phone under Yakov’s nose and tapped on the video to make it play. On screen, Yuri skated around the rink in Hasetsu, moving his arms to capture the feel of music only he could hear. His skating was shaky, and Yurio saw Yakov wince whenever Yuri fell or stumble, but he nodded approvingly when Yuri got up and kept going. When the video was done, Yurio returned the phone to his pocket. 

“Well?” he demanded. 

“Well what?” Yakov asked. 

Yakov started towards his office; Yurio dogged his steps. 

“You heard me, he wants to compete.” 

“Then he will compete,” Yakov said, waving this away. “Not well, from the looks of it, but his base is still there. He’ll be back to his old level in time.” 

“Not without help,” Yuri said as Yakov opened his office door. He followed his coach inside. 

“Perhaps not. What are you proposing, Yuri?” Yakov settled into the chair behind his desk. 

“You’re a coach,” Yurio said. 

Yakov’s brows rose again. “Yes.” 

“Coach him.” 

“I cannot.” Yakov said. “I am here. He is there. It is impossible.” 

“He needs a coach!” Yurio said. His voice was louder than he had intended. Yakov had been much more agreeable in his head. 

“Then he better start looking,” Yakov said. 

“It’s August. He’s not going to find anybody.” 

“Then maybe our friend should have tied on his skates and taken to the ice a little sooner, no?” 

It was all Yurio could do not to stomp his foot. He had thought that Yakov was on his side. 

“Look,” Yurio said. It was all he could do to keep himself from shouting. He planted his hands on Yakov’s desk and leaned forward. “There’s a ballet teacher in Hasetsu who can help him with choreography, although from the looks of it, he’s not half bad on his own. Yuuko-chan, who owns the ice rink, who sent me this video, knows a little about skating; she teaches pee-wee and novice classes, but she doesn’t know enough to get Yuri back to where he needs to be for this season. She needs help. What if you just sent her tips, here and there. What if she sent you videos of Yuri’s practices and you reviewed them and helped her help him? _He’s one of the best skaters in the world, Yakov._ He deserves better.” 

Yakov considered this. “I have fees, Yuri.” 

“I’ll pay them.” Yuri said. He didn’t even stop to think about it; he didn’t need to. Had he not already proved he would do anything to keep Yuri competing? And he had the money, that was one of the perks of winning as often as he did. His heart pounded as he waited for his coach to answer. 

“Alright.” 

Yurio’s shoulders slumped with relief. 

“But I can’t promise it will make a difference.” 

Yurio didn’t care anymore. He threw his arms around the old man. “It will. I know it. Thank you, Yakov.” 

Yakov patted Yurio awkwardly on the back. “Yes, I know. You’re welcome. Now go home. Send me this Yuuko’s email later. And tell her I’ve agreed to help.” 

Yurio pulled away. “I will. Thank you, again.” 

Yakov waved his hand towards the door. “Shoo. I have work to do.” 

Yurio nodded and left. He felt better than he had in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's so short, but the chapter I have slated for tomorrow morning is much longer, so that should make up for it a little. Is it as weird for you guys as it is for me that we're almost a third done (chapter wise?). Gaaah, I can't wait until we get to the end and things get _really_ interesting.


	24. Rebirth: Chapter 24

After rediscovering skating, Yuri worked tirelessly to learn everything he could about the sport. He would need to prepare two programs: one that was no more than two minutes and fifty seconds, and one that with a time range of four minutes and twenty seconds to four minutes and forty seconds. This year’s season had started over a month ago, on the first of July. Besides the fact that he had no idea how to even begin looking for a coach, because the season had already kicked off, he seriously doubted that he would be able to find one in time for competition. In light of this, Yuuko-chan had agreed to do her best to coach him. She had warned him, however, that she may not be good enough to get him where he needed to be. He had dismissed this concern. The first step was to get back to competing. The rest would fall in after that. 

There were six competitions before the Grand Prix Finals in December. He would compete in two of them, and his performance in each would determine whether or not he moved on. After the Finals, he would have the national completion, which would determine if he moved on to the other major competitions in the season. He had tried his best to seem unconcerned with all the obstacles that spelled out that he would not make it this year, but a part of him was nervous. He wanted to win. He wanted to prove to everyone that he could do this. One of the best, Yuuko-chan had said he’d been. This season, he would be even better. Besides the video Yuuko-chan showed Yuri of a performance called “Stay Close to Me,” he had done the year before, Yuri resolutely ignored his past skating career; if he was going to do this, he wanted it to be a fresh start. No expectations of what he was supposed to be doing, just him and the ice. 

Two more advantages came out of Yuri rediscovering skating: improved balance and relaxed supervision. Having to keep himself upright on ice while moving very quickly helped Yuri deal with his topsy-turvy world off the ice much better. As his family saw this, they started allowing him small liberties, like walking short distances on his own and leaving him unattended whenever he was elsewhere in the house. He practiced skating when he wasn’t at the rink by moving about the wooden floors in his socks. He discovered he was able to keep his balance better when he did this too. 

From then on, Yuri spent as much of his time as he could at the Ice Castle. Yuuko-chan had filmed him skating the night he had had gone back, and he studied the routine he had laid until he had it memorized. At two minutes and forty-eight seconds, including all his slips and stumbles, it was perfect for the short program. He practiced the jumps he had seen himself do; he looked up videos of other skaters doing them and learned each other their names. Toe-loop, which he mastered the fastest, then the Salchow and the Axel, which took him a little longer, and finally the Flip, which was the hardest. He still hadn’t quite mastered it. There were two more kinds of jumps, Yuri knew, the regular Loop and the Lutz, but he didn’t want to focus on them until he needed to. They weren’t going to be in his short program, so for now, they didn’t matter. 

The only problem left, as far as Yuri could tell, was finding music, both for his short program and the free one. Minako was helping him refine the choreography for the short program and came to the rink to work with him for a little bit every day. She had also agreed to help with the choreography for the free program, once he knew what he wanted to skate to. So, music. But where to start? 

“Yuuko-chan?” Yuri asked during a break in practice one day. She looked up from a text she had been reading. She raised her eyebrows in a silent question. Yuri set down his water bottle. 

“Do you know anyone who would be able to help me find music for my programs? Do skaters ever commission someone to write music for them?” 

Yuuko-chan laughed. “Yuri, you do know someone who could write music for you; you two went to school together. She wrote the piece for your free program last year.” 

Yuri was floored. “What?” 

Yuuko-chan nodded. “Do you want me to show you?” 

Now Yuri adamantly shook his head. “No. I don’t want to know too much about how I used to skate. I’m different now. I don’t want to disappoint myself by being different.” 

Yuuko-chan paused in typing into her phone, and Yuri had the deepest suspicion that she had already started pulling up the video. “Are you sure?” she asked seriously. 

“I do not want to know anything about my past skating career.” Yuri said firmly. “It doesn’t represent who I am anymore; I don’t know that person.” 

Yuuko-chan had a funny look on her face. “If you say so, Yuri.” 

“I do. What’s this girl’s name?” 

“Theia Severson, I think you said once? The piece she did last year was beautiful. Are you sure you don’t want to see it?” 

“I’m sure,” Yuri said. 

Yuuko-chan looked disappointed, but she didn’t press. He finished he break and stepped back out onto the ice. Practice went on. 

That night, Yuri flicked through his email contacts until he found Theia. He sent her an email explaining what had happened to him as well as his current predicament. He included a video Yuuko-chan had taken of him that day performing the short program choreography and asked if she could think of any music he could pair with it. He hesitated a moment, then hit send. Theia Severson was his only hope at being able to get the music he needed for this season’s programs; August was coming to a close and looking for music on his own would take far too long; the first Grand Prix competitions were two months away. He needed and expert opinion. 

He was just getting ready for bed when his computer chimed with a new message. Sleep forgotten, Yuri slammed into his chair and clicked on the tab for his email. The message was from Theia. 

> Yuri!
> 
> So happy to hear from you, although I’m sorry to hear about your accident—that’s terrible! Let me know if there’s anything, besides music, that I can help you with, even if it’s just a friendly ear to talk to. I can’t begin to comprehend what you’re going through, but I imagine it must be difficult. Kudos to you for sticking with skating! It’s strange to think of you being anywhere but on the ice. 
> 
> As for music for your programs, I’m pleased to say that I think I can help you out. I have a piece that I’ve been fiddling with on my own time that I think would work well for your short program. You said the message that you felt when you were skating was looking for memories that eluded you, or at least find something new in searching, and I think this would work wonderfully for this. I’ve attached the demo, so give it a listen and tell me what you think. If you like it, I’ll get right on polishing it up for you. 
> 
> For the Free Program, you’re going to have to give me something a bit more specific to work off of. A few ideas have come to mind just knowing what your Short Program might sound like, but I’d rather they be tailored to what you’re looking for. I think you mentioned once that skaters have to have a theme for the Grand Prix Series? Knowing your theme will help me help you get the perfect song. 
> 
> Cheers,   
> Theia

It took Yuri a while to decipher everything the email said and he had to look up words or use a translator here and there, but nothing could stop the joy bubbling inside of him. Theia was going to help him! He listened to the music she had suggested for the Short Program while he watched the video of his skating. He and Minako would have to change some of the choreography again to flow with the music more, and the piece itself probably needed a bit more work, but other than that, it was perfect. 

The point Theia had raised about his theme, however, was going to be a problem. What did he want his theme this year to be? His short program was about his memories; so should that be his theme? Memories? Or Recollections? But he had lost all of his. Discovery then? He chewed his lip as he tried to think it through, but it was like searching for ice skates based off their description on the computer: everything he came up with felt wrong. 

After a while, Yuri started the slow process of writing out a reply to Theia. He might be able to hold off for a little longer on the music for his free program, but the sooner she could finish off the short program, the better. 

> Theia!
> 
> It’s good to hear from you too! Thank you for helping me find music—I had no idea who else to ask, or where to even begin looking. The music you suggested for the short program was perfect and I’d be honored to skate to it. Thank you so much for sending it to me! 
> 
> Unfortunately, I still haven’t come up with a theme for the Grand Prix series. Everything I think of doesn’t seem to cover everything that I feel and want the programs to be about. Sometimes I wish I could have my old life back, just because I’m sure that that Yuri had laid plans for this season already. I feel so far behind! But I also know that thinking of him—the old me—and wishing he were still around won’t help me now. I’m skating again because I want to be able to move forward and forget the past. If I’m going to do this, I have to do it with the resources I have, not the ones I wish I had. It drives me crazy, but I’m trying to work through it. I suppose it’s silly to say, but I’m a new person now. More than anything else, I guess that that’s what I want this season to represent, if that makes sense. 
> 
> Sorry for rambling, and thank you again for all the help! 
> 
> Yuri

Not five minutes later, Theia’s response came back. 

> Yuri, darling, I have the perfect song for your free program, as well a suggestion for your theme: Loss and Rebirth. Also, don’t feel bad about rambling, I said I would be a friendly ear and I meant it. Besides, your rambling was exactly what I needed to hear from you. Do me a favor and listen to the song I’ve linked to at the end of this message and tell me what you think. I think some of the lyrics will have to be rewritten to make it more relevant for you, but I can manage that easy. My fiancé is an opera singer—she’ll cover the new recording.
> 
> Please, keep me updated on how your season is going and keep in touch! I always love getting to chat with you! 
> 
> Cheers,   
> Theia

Yuri clicked on the link Theia had sent him. He listened to the song once, twice and then a third time. 

Theia, he thought, had a rare and beautiful gift. And the theme she suggested is perfect too. 

He sent her back a quick email telling Theia as such, disregarding formal formatting as she had. He was too excited and thankful about what she had just done for him to work around formal courtesy. When he was done, he sent an email to Minako Yuuko-chan telling them the good news. Tomorrow, he and Minako would start working out the choreography for the free program. The short program was as good as it was going to be, and if he wanted to be even remotely ready for his first competition, he needed to start focusing on the longer, free program. Two months. At minimum, that’s all he would have to learn it. He hoped that it would be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to decided if I like the blockquotes for their emails here or not, and if I do...  
> Should I go back and make Yurio's/Yuuko's texts like that earlier on?
> 
> Decisions, decisions...
> 
> What do you guys think?


	25. WYWSHA: Chapter 25

## 

Part Three: Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again

With the start of September came the allocations for the Grand Prix Series. Yuri landed one of the first ones—Skate Canada at the very end of October—as well as the last event this season, Japan’s NHK Trophy. Theia had been quick to record the edited lyrics for the song she had recommended: “Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again” from Phantom of the Opera. Apparently, it was one of her favorite musicals and Yuri’s musings the night they had first had reminded her of the lyrics and theme of the song: recovering from a loss that stripped someone to their core. 

Yuri himself was feeling pretty stripped to the core at the moment. Yuuko-chan had stepped up her game since he had picked his music for his programs, and practices of late had been brutal, repeating his jumps over and over again to make them cleaner, and learning the other two that he had previously neglected was proving to be one of the hardest things he’d ever done. 

“Alright Yuri?” Minako asked. 

Yuri glanced up. He hadn’t heard her walk in. “Yuuko-chan’s gone insane,” he rasped. 

Minako laughed. “She’s not insane Yuri, she’s just pushing you. We all want you to succeed, and you won’t do that unless you’re strong enough to keep going when everyone else gives out.” 

Yuri pulled himself up. “It doesn’t seem like it, but if you think that’s what it is.” 

“Yuri,” Minako said. “I’ve been to some of your past competitions—” 

She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to object. 

“Let me finish. I’ve been to some of your past competitions. I don’t know a lot about figure skating, but I think what makes the free program so hard is its length. 

Some skaters look like they’re about to keel over by the end of it. You have amazing stamina Yuri, and that’s a huge advantage for you. That stamina means you can do a lot more later on in your programs and milk those multipliers for all they’re worth.” 

“But first I need to be able to do these things correctly—the jumps, the steps, everything—otherwise it’s pointless,” Yuri filled in. 

Minako nodded. “Precisely the case. Now, get off the ice. You look tired and we don’t want you peaking too early.” 

“But Yuuko—” 

“I was watching you before you stopped. Your jumps looked fine. But if you try and continue right now, they’re going to start getting sloppy. Come on. I’ll buy you lunch.” 

Yuri hesitated a moment, then skated over to the gap in the barrier. When he clunked down on the bench and pulled off his skates, he saw his feet were beginning to bruise a little. Clearly, all those jumps were taking a toll, but Minako had been right. Training like this helped improve his stamina and ensure that he would be able to execute these jumps—and perfectly, too—when the time came in competition. 

He met Minako by the front entrance of the Ice Castle when he had changed and they walked through the streets of Hasetsu together. The weather had cooled down a bit, although not by much. The sky had turned a steely grey. Rain was on its way. Minako pointed himself a restaurant and they sat. When the waiter came, Minako ordered for both of them. 

“I need to finish off the choreography for the free program,” Yuri said when they were alone again. 

Minako nodded. “I agree. That’s actually why I came by today, but then I saw the drills that Yuuko was having you do and I decided to hold off until you had had the chance to rest a little.” 

Yuri fiddled with his straw wrapper for a moment. “Do you think it will be good enough? For the first competition?” 

Minako sighed. “Yuri, you’re a wonderful skater, and it’s brought me no greater joy in the last month than to see you return to the ice again, even if it makes your mother nervous. I know you wouldn’t remember, but I was the one who recommended figure skating to you in the first place.” 

Yuri’s gaze shot up to the older woman. “Really?” 

She smiled. “You were in my ballet classes. You were talented. I thought that if any of my students would make good skaters, it would be you.” 

Yuri felt his cheeks flush and he looked down again. “Thank you.” 

Minako reached out and grabbed his hand. She gave it a tight squeeze. “Yuri, no matter what happens in Mississauga, I want you to know that I’m proud of you for doing this. We all are.” 

Yuri processed what she had said. “You don’t think I can do it.” 

“I didn’t say that, Yuri.” Minako sighed. 

“But you’re thinking it. That’s why you avoided my question.” He glanced up at her. She looked sad, and he knew he was right. He nodded a little to himself. 

“I’ll just have to work extra hard then,” he said. “I want to win gold at the Grand Prix Finals this year.” 

Minako raised her brows. “That’s a very ambitious goal.” 

“I’m going to do it,” he said firmly. 

“Oh, Yuri,” Minako replied. The waiter set their food down in front of them. She was smiling now, still sad, but sweet too. “I really hope you do.”


	26. WYWSHA: Chapter 26

Yurio flicked through his phone before practice started. His skates were on, but he was more intent on staying on his Instagram feed for as long as he could. It was weird, not seeing photos of Hasetsu from Yuri’s point of view; it would have helped Yurio get a better idea of how Yuri spent his time, and how he was dealing with his amnesia. Ever since Yuri had taken to the ice again, Yakov had not spoken with Yurio about “their foreign friend.” Yuuko-chan sent him videos every now and then of Yuri’s skating, and it wasn’t quite what it had been, but it was getting there. She had told Yurio that mostly, Yuri’s skating seemed to be instinctive, something his body had remembered even if his mind had forgotten. 

“Hello, Kitten.” 

Victor leaned against the barrier next to Yurio and stretched. 

“Leave me the fuck alone, asshole.” 

“Still mad at me, are you? Please note that this would be a lot easier if I knew what I’d done to incur your scorn.” 

_You let Yuri leave, asshole,_ Yurio thought to himself. _So by extension, his accident is your fault. And he’s skating again, but from the looks of it, making it to the finals is going to be a close call. Way to fuck up the competition for me._

But he couldn’t say any of that, of course. He settled for a growl. Victor sighed. 

“Did you check your Grand Prix assignments?” 

“Rostelecom Cup and NHK Trophy.” Yurio ground out. 

Yuri would be at the NHK Trophy, Yurio knew. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. How different would Yuri be? Would he remember Yurio when the two saw each other? A part of Yurio was secretly excited to see his rival, but a larger part of him also worried that it would be the last time the two ever met on the ice. Yuri was so far behind… 

Victor laughed bitterly. “Rostelecom and the Cup of China. I think the universe hates me.” 

It took Yurio a minute to process why Victor would think that. Yurio had looked over the assignments for the other skaters—J.J., to his great displeasure, would be at the Rostelecom Cup—but he knew that Victor would likely get through both competitions easily. His appearance at the Finals was practically guaranteed. And it wasn’t like he’d be running into—oh. 

Rostelecom and the Cup of China had been Yuri’s assignments last year. Victor would be forced to return to places that were full of reminders of his past love. 

Yurio double tapped a photo on his Instagram feed. 

“That sucks.” 

“Glad to see you care.” 

“Get over yourself. You’re there to skate, not to reminisce.” 

“Thanks, Kitten. I feel loads better now.” 

“Awesome.” 

“Are you incapable of empathizing with anyone?” 

Yurio slammed his phone down on the barrier and looked up Victor. 

“Are you incapable of looking past your own problems? So Yuri left—boo-hoo. And stop looking at me like if I just shot you. You can't run away from all mentions of Yuri forever, and I for one am not going to stop saying his name just because you can't handle it. I’m not him, Victor. I don’t have time to put up with your Prima Donna attitude. I just—” 

Yurio took a deep breath to center himself. He needed to get a better handle on his emotions. 

“Sometimes, I forget how self-centered you are. And then you open your mouth or do something, and I’m reminded all over again. And if you can’t handle the fact that the world doesn’t always revolve around you, _asshole,_ then do us all a favor and LEAVE.” 

Victor was looking at him slack-jawed. 

“That,” he said, “was not very nice.” 

“Whoever said I was nice person?” Yurio growled. “Now move; you’re in my way and I need to get on the ice to practice. I have gold medals to win.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters because they're both real short. 
> 
> And they kind of tie into each other, but I don't like switching off POV if it's not a continuous scene, so...  
>  ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Enjoy!


	27. WYWSHA: Chapter 27

When they returned from their lunch, Yuri laced up his skates and returned to the ice. Yuuko came along with him to watch what he was doing more closely and Minako stood along the edge. 

“Are you ready?” Minako called. 

Yuri, positioned in the center of the rink, nodded. Yuuko was somewhere behind him, ready to start shadowing him with her camera in her hands. They had taken to filming Yuri’s practices so he could look back over what he had done and help make changes. He could also compare his jumps and other elements to videos he found of other skaters online. He was sure that the system was far from orthodox, but it worked, so he didn’t complain. Minako hit the music and he started moving. 

Not even halfway through, she stopped it again. Yuri paused. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

Minako shook her head. “I—I don’t know how to explain it, Yuri, but I’m just not feeling it. You have to be the music. Right now, it’s just a song that’s playing while you’re skating. You need to feel it. You need to encompass everything that it stands for a represents. 

“I am,” he said. 

“No,” Minako said firmly, “You’re not. What does this song mean to you, Yuri? How do you relate to it? How does it make you _feel?_ You need to make us feel all of those things too.” 

Yuri returned to the center of the ice. He could hear the hiss of Yuuko-chan’s skates behind him. Minako started the music again. A minute later, she stopped again. 

“No, Yuri. Don’t just go through the motions, express them. Again.” Minako clapped her hands. Yuri returned to the center. She started the music, Yuri started skating. He went on for a little longer this time before Minako inevitably stopped him again. 

“Feel the music, Yuri,” she pleaded. “Allow it to consume you, then move not because you are told to, but because you have to. Once more, this time with feeling!” 

They all reset themselves. Minako restarted the music and Yuri began the program again and this time, took it all the way through to the end. When he finished, he looked at Minako hopefully, but she was shaking her head. 

“The piece in and of itself is fine, but you can’t really…go anywhere with it. You come, you skate, you go. It’s not memorable. It’s not making a lasting mark, and it should.” 

“So what do I have to do?” Yuri asked. 

Minako sighed. “I don’t know, Yuri, I really don’t. When I listen to the music, I can see how it’s perfect for you, but you’re not…you’re just not there. Do you 

understand?” 

“Not really,” Yuri admitted. 

Minako heaved out a sigh. It occurred to Yuri then, that she wasn’t exactly a young woman anymore. 

“And I don’t know how to explain it better. Watch the video from Yuuko, and look inside yourself. Who are you, Yuri? Who do you want to be? How does this music relate to that? Unfortunately, until you figure all of this out, I can’t help you. This is in your hands now, Yuri. Figure it out.” 

Minako walked left without another word, and although Yuri and Yuuko-san tried to continue on with practice, neither of their hearts were in it. 

That night, Yuri lay in his bed and listened to the rain thunder down from the heavens across the house. What did the music mean to him? He had watched videos of the song’s performance online. He knew that the song happened when the main character, Christine, visited her father’s grave site in a cemetery. He knew from research and correspondence with Theia that it came at a point in the show when Christine felt frightened and alone. She snuck out while her fiancé was sleeping and visited her father’s grave for comfort. 

Yuri could relate to the cornered feeling—that’s why he’d snuck out of the house and went skating in the first place. He’d felt lonely from the pressure of so many people never leaving him to his own devices. And skating brought him comfort. Visiting the rink was his version of visiting the cemetery. 

He rolled over on his stomach and opened up the search engine on his computer. He hadn’t tried too hard to decode the lyrics to the song for the free program, especially after Theia had edited them to “fit his story better.” Instead, he had chosen to trust her judgement, but now he wondered if he should look a little deeper into the meaning of the music. He pulled up an online translator and copy and pasted the lyrics that Theia had sent him into the box. The translation seemed…off in some places, but he was starting to get the idea of what the song was supposed to mean. He highlighted a few phrases and sent Theia and email, asking if she could help him understand them a little better. He knew once that he must have been better at English—there was a degree from a university in America on his shelf—but he had told Theia that since the accident, he had been having trouble with it. 

He flipped back onto his back and listened to the rain on the window. “Who am I?” he asked the empty room. 

_That’s easy._ He thought to himself. _I’m_ Yuri. 

But what did that mean? 

Two months ago he had been deposited in an alien territory, stripped of his memories and with nothing but the recollections of friends and family he didn’t know to guide him. He had an idea of who he _used_ to be, but who was he now? Who did he want to be? 

“I want to be a champion,” he said. He liked the way the words felt in his mouth. 

_Okay. But why?_

“I want to be a champion,” he said, “because…” 

He paused. Thought about it. “Because I don’t want people to think I’m weak anymore.” 

His computer chimed with a message from Theia. Late at night for him, he had found, was the best time to reach her, as that was when she was just getting up and checking her messages. She had stayed in Detroit after she had graduated because that’s where her family was. She was getting work, but it was irregular, and it was not always easy to find commissions. She played violin for the opera’s orchestra to help pay the bills. That's how she had met her fiancé, Maria. 

Theia hadn’t been able to find good translations for all of the phrases he’d had questions about, but she had done her best to explain them, and once again, Yuri was indebted to his friend. Now that he knew what the lyrics were saying, he could see how they were supposed to apply to him. Theia had rewritten the lyrics so he wasn’t Christine visiting her father’s grave and trying to figure out how to move on; he was Yuri, looking back at the life he had lost, mourning it, and finding a way to carry on in light of all that had happened. Yuri’s belief that Theia had some sort of superpower doubled. 

Briefly, Yuri considered calling Minako to tell her the good news, but it was close to midnight and Yuri didn’t want to bother her. He’d talk to her tomorrow, when they could go to the rink work on the program with the enlightenment of Yuri’s discovery. Once more, with feeling! She had said. He had feeling now, and he was ready to do it again. In the meantime… 

Slowly but surely in the last few weeks, whenever Yuri wasn’t busy, he had been searching his room for anything that would trigger a memory. He had started with the shelves and slowly worked way around the small space. All he had left was a pile of cardboard boxes in the corner of the room. He had asked Mari what they were left over from, and she’d told him with a shrug that he had been planning on moving, but that he’d changed his mind that summer before the accident. Again, she had told him not to worry about it. 

He dragged himself off the bed and wandered over to the pile. The first box held clothes for colder weather—a heavy coat, a hat, gloves, worn sweaters and a pair of torn trainers. He put it aside and resolved to put the clothes in their proper place later. The next box contained books, none of which he recognized, although he flipped through them. He stacked them up neatly and looked around for a place where he could put them. They were his, so clearly they had once had a place in this room. The top shelf of the bookcase at the foot of his bed was completely empty—he lined them up neatly there. 

The third and final box had more clothes, although these were more for summer; a swimsuit and some lightweight t-shirts and cargo shorts. He sighed. Nothing in these boxes meant anything to him. He was officially living in the room of a stranger, although he recognized that he was slowly claiming the space for himself. The plant had died weeks ago and Yuri had replaced it with a photo of he and Mari she’d taken of the two of them after the accident and before he’d become a shut-in. He’d hung a calendar full of scenes from around the world on a blank space on the wall. He’d changed his computer home screen from a brown poodle he couldn’t remember to an artsy one Yuuko-chan had taken of his ice skates. Sooner or later, all traces of the old Yuri would be gone, and it would just be him. 

Yuri stood up and stretched. It was late. He should get to bed. As he went to move the boxes back into the corner, he saw something shine in the light cast from the lamp on the desk. He stopped to pick the curiosity up and studied it. It was a golden ring. Plain, but beautiful. Like the ice, it struck a chord in him. But why was it in a dusty corner of his room, forgotten behind a bunch of boxes? Something as…wonderful…as this deserved to be carried around and worn. He traced his fingertips around the edges of it. 

“Did someone give this to me?” he asked the empty room. 

_It seems like a strange thing to just buy for myself and then abandon,_ he thought. 

Barely thinking of what he was doing, Yuri settled back onto his bed. He slid the ring onto his ring finger and held his hand out, studying it. He liked the way it caught the light. Something in his heart was singing. After a moment, he took the ring off and held the warm ring of metal in the palm of his hand. He didn’t want to let go of the ring now that he had found it, but at the same time, he didn’t want anyone asking any questions. Yuri walked back over to the first box and pulled out the trainers he had found. He set the ring down on his desk and freed one of the laces from the shoes, then he picked up the ring and dropped it onto the string and looped it twice and tied it around his neck so the ring hung right above his heart. Yuri traced his fingers along the metal again, then dropped it, safe, beneath his shirt. 

That task completed, Yuri walked over to the corner to see if there was anything else to discover. When he crouched down to check, he was duly rewarded: something grey was bundled up and shoved tightly against the wall. It was bent and flattened a little from the boxes that had concealed it, but when Yuri pulled it out and gave it a shake, most of the wrinkles came free. It was a sweater, and was made out of a softer material than Yuri had ever felt in his life. He stroked his hands across it, smoothing out the wrinkles and relishing the feeling of the fabric underneath his fingertips. This too, was something he wanted to keep and take care of. He folded the sweater neatly and set it on a shelf in his closet. He’d wear it again when the weather was colder. 

Outside, the rain had stopped clattering against Yuri’s window. He leaned over the bed and pulled it open. Cool night air washed over him, sweet with the taste of rain. Fall was coming, and with it would be the Grand Prix Series, but he was ready. He was going to win. He knew it as surely as he felt the breeze ruffling through his hair.


	28. WYWSHA: Chapter 28

At the end of October, Yuri and Yuuko-chan flew to Mississauga for Skate Canada. Despite his recently-discovered connection to his free-program music, he still felt like it wasn’t quite…right. And Yuuko-chan was nervous about debuting herself as his coach on such a big stage too, he knew. She kept tapping her phone against her knee. 

Much to Yuri’s pleasure and relief, he had been allowed a phone before he left. His family had conceded that it would be good for him to have a way to get in contact with Yuuko-chan if they got separated and a place where he could store all of his medical information if something went wrong. To Yuri, however, it meant freedom. He had emailed Theia before he left and told her about Skate Canada. Because Detroit was only three hours away, She and her fiancé, Maria, had decided to come visit him and cheer him on. He had been sure to get a copy of _The Phantom of the Opera_ with Japanese subtitles before he left. He still hadn’t seen it, and he thought it would be fun if the three of them watched it together. 

The reality of the competition Yuri was about to partake in still hadn’t entirely settled in. If he was nervous about anything, it was seeing Theia again and leaving Hasetsu for the first time since his accident. Everyone seemed convinced that something was going to go wrong, and their constant worrying was giving him second-hand anxiety. 

The airport had been noisy and crowded and Yuri had been terribly disoriented for a moment; he had come to realize that the world was more likely to go topsy-turvy on him when he was trapped in a crowd, but Yuuko-chan helped steer him through it and at last they reached the hotel. From there, Yuri changed and then they went to the rink to practice. When their time was up, Yuuko-chan had unpacked Yuri had lunched on a sandwich he had brought in the restaurant downstairs. When the second practice time had come that afternoon, they had returned to the rink. This time, Yuuko-chan gave Yuri a few more specific instructions and when he inevitably had to come off the ice, Yuri knew that he was as ready as he could be for the competition tomorrow. 

When they had gone back to the hotel, Yuri had showered while Yuuko-chan lay down for a nap. After he got out, he changed into a long-sleeve shirt he had brought from home advertising the university he had attended in Detroit and some jeans. Yuuko-chan was still sleeping, so Yuri stood by the window and engaged in his second favorite hobby: people watching. 

“I wonder if they’re all here for the competition.” he wondered aloud, pulling aside the curtain a little farther. Taxis and limos and other cars kept pulling up outside the entrance and depositing people and their suitcases outside. 

“Probably,” Yuuko-chan mumbled from behind him. “It’s a big event, and most of the competitors are staying here; it practically right next to the Hershey Centre.” 

“Mmm.” Yuri agreed. He watched as a man with a head of dark curls stepped out of a fancy car and onto to the sidewalk outside the entrance. His dark black scarf looked like some sort of flag as it whipped around his face in the wind. He glanced up at the hotel and Yuri stepped back from the window for a moment. It was one thing to watch people, it was entirely different when they watched back. When Yuri stepped back to the window again, the man was gone. 

“When did Theia say was coming?” Yuuko-chan asked. 

“She didn’t,” Yuri said. “She told me she’d text me when she and Maria were getting close.” 

Outside, an old man and his wife walked into the hotel. A little boy ran around their legs, chasing after a puppy. They looked happy. Yuri’s heart gave a pang as he watched the old couple. Had he ever been loved like that? And if he had, where was that person now? 

“Yuuko-chan,” Yuri asked slowly as he watched two girls walk out of the hotel and through the parking lot. “Could we go and look around the city later? I’d like to see what it’s like.” 

Yuuko-chan sighed. “I don’t know, Yuri. It’ll be crowded, and don’t you want to rest before you compete tomorrow?” 

Yuri stepped back away from the window and turned to look at Yuuko-chan. She was lying on the bed closer to the door, and arm thrown over her eyes. Yuri hoped he hadn’t woken her up when he had started talking; she looked exhausted. 

“Are you alright, Yuuko-chan?” Yuri asked. 

“I’m worried about the triplets,” she said quietly. “I’ve never been apart from them this long and Takeshi isn’t very good about disciplining them. I imagine the house will be overrun when I get back.” 

“Oh,” Yuri said. He hadn’t thought about the triplets when he had asked Yuuko-chan if she would help coach him. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine, Yuri,” she said, moving her arm so she could look at him. “But if you ever have kids one day, you’ll understand. As excited as I am to be here, I’m also sad to have left them all behind.” 

Yuri’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out to check it. “Theia’s fifteen minutes away. She’s going to find a place to park, and then walk over. She wants to know if we can all go out for dinner together.” He glanced up. “I bet she’d let you come along too, if you want.” 

Yuuko-chan waved him away. She had one arm back over her eyes again. “If it's alright with you, Yuri. I think I’m just going to stay here for a bit and rest. I’m tired. All those flights…traveling really wears you down, huh?” 

Yuri picked up his coat from the chair and pulled it on. He had his wallet in his back pocket with his ID and the hotel key card, as well as a paper with the room number and the address for the hotel, in case he forgot it. He was wearing the medical ID bracelet his mother had made the doctors give him at his last visit; if something happened again, if there was another accident, she wanted to make sure he would be well cared for. 

“I guess so.” Yuri said. “I’m going to go down and wait for her in the lobby, if you don’t mind.” 

She pulled her arm away again and smiled at him. “That’s fine. Just…be careful Yuri. Don’t wander off; it’s a strange city. I’d hate to have something happen to you on my watch again.” 

Yuri took a deep breath in through his nose and nodded. He didn’t want to upset Yuuko-chan when she was already doing so much for him. He made a split-second decision and swung his athletic bag off the bed and up around his shoulders. A moment later, Yuri was out the door and walking down the hallway. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand everyone constantly worrying about him; he did. He’d had a major accident this summer. He was lucky to have come out so…intact. And now he was in strange city, far from the relative safety of the hot springs and Hasetsu. His English was poor. Hell, his Japanese was probably a little rougher than it had been. When he considered everyone else’s point of view, Yuri could see how they would be worried that something would go horribly, horribly wrong. But he was fine. He knew it. And their constant worry was starting to wear on his skin like sandpaper. It was almost enough to make him want to scream, sometimes. 

When Yuri got to the elevator, he pressed the down button a little harder than he probably needed to and continued to silently fume. ‘Don’t wander off.’ Yuuko-chan had said. Like if he had no more sense than one of the triplets! He was 25 years old; he could look after himself, for God’s sake. Just because he struggled sometimes, it didn’t mean he was a child. They didn’t need to talk down to him just because he’d lost his memories. 

“Oh, hello.” 

Yuri looked up from his internal rage-fest to see the man he had spotted from the window earlier. He had lovely tan skin and brown hair that curled around his temples. He had changed out of the grey pea coat and black scarf he had been wearing earlier and now was dressed only in a tightly fitting speedo that didn't leave much the the imagination. A towel was thrown over his shoulder. This close, and freed of the mystery of his clothes, Yuri could see in perfect definition every one of the man's well toned muscles and the way they shifted as he breathed. Yuri felt his breath catch and his ears start to burn. He looked away quickly. 

“Hello,” Yuri said quietly. 

The man smiled and it was a reckless thing. Yuri’s heart started pounding. He was reminded of the night he had snuck out of his room to go wandering the streets of Hasetsu by himself for the first time. 

_Danger,_ screamed Yuri’s mind. 

_Adventure,_ chanted Yuri’s heart. 

“Are you going down?” Yuri managed to choke out. What was happening to him? This had never happened to him before! 

“Well I was going to go up.” 

God, his voice. A slight accent, and…and suddenly Yuri understood the meaning of the word ‘husky.’ The man took his time to roam his gaze down Yuri’s body…and then right back up. 

“But if you’re going down, I’ll gladly follow.” 

Yuri was completely at loss at how to reply to that. He quietly begged the universe to pull the elevator up to him faster, if only so he could escape. He could feel the man’s eyes drilling into him. Yuri’s neck was burning now, he reached back and rubbed at it. 

“Did you like what you saw?” the man asked abruptly. 

Yuri’s stomach dropped out. He forced himself to meet the man’s sharp grey eyes. “What?” He stuttered. 

“I saw you,” the man said. He smiled again and Yuri’s heart skipped a beat. “Watching people from the window, and I was wondering if you liked what you saw.” 

Yuri opened his mouth, although he had absolutely no idea what to say, and was saved a response by the arrival of the elevator. 

“I have to—” Yuri gestured vaguely towards the waiting doors. 

The man laughed, low enough that it sent shivers down Yuri’s core. “Alright. But I know where to find you now. I do hope we run into each other again.” 

It was all Yuri could do to get into the elevator. He could hear the man laughing even as the door closed. When he was alone, Yuri leaned back against one of the cool mirrored walls of the compartment and tried to get his breathing back down to normal. What had just happened? Who had that man been? Why had he talked like that? He tried to compose himself before the elevator doors opened onto the ground floor. A part of him was hoping he’d never see the man again, but a more reckless half was pleading that he would. His skin felt to pinched. His clothes were too tight. He needed to breathe. _What the hell?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God bless whichever one of you rec'ed this for victuurificrec Fan Rec Friday. Seeing that literally made my day. I'm sorry if this fic is slowly killing you, but I promise it will be worth it in the end. :)


	29. WYWSHA: Chapter 29

When the elevator doors chimed open, Yuri stepped out. He was still trying to steady himself, but he didn’t have time to dwell on the mysterious gentleman for too long, however, because he had barely taken two steps out of the elevator before someone collided with him. Arms were thrown around his neck and he stumbled backwards. The room tilted backwards. Yuri reached out his hands blindly to ground himself. 

“Yuri!” someone was screaming in his ear. 

His breath was coming in short gasps now, and he knew why. His brain was struggling to process all the information and was failing to do so. He was having an panic attack. He’d had them occasionally since the accident. It was what had happened when he had come home to a giant crowd of people. It was what had happened whenever he was forced into a new place, loaded with too many people, with no reference point because he had no memories to compare the everything to. His stomach rolled over. He was going to be sick. 

Then, as quickly as he had been attacked, he was released. The woman standing before him was about his age, although a little shorter. She had a slight build and her straight black hair had been cut short so it hung the same length as her chin. Yuri recognized her from the photo she had sent him right away. 

“Theia!” he said, throwing up his arms, because her excitement had infected him. 

She giggled and he did too. 

“It’s good to see you, Yuri,” she said, reaching out and touching his arm briefly. 

“It’s good to finally see you too, Theia,” He said with a smile. 

She shook her head. “You haven’t changed a bit from college, you know that? But your glasses,” she said, studying him, “those are new.” 

“I broke my old ones in my accident,” he said. He shrugged, and tried to keep his voice casual, but beneath his chest, his heart was pounding. 

She nodded. “That makes sense. I like these though, you look…older, or something. It’s different, but it’s a good different, if you know what I mean.” 

“Not really,” Yuri said with a laugh, “but I’ll take your word for it. Where’s Maria?” 

“Outside, with the car. We couldn’t find a space, so we figured that I’d come in and get you and we’d head off right away. Is that okay with you?” 

Yuri spread his arms wide so that she could see he was already wearing his coat. “I’m ready whenever.” 

“Good.” 

She held out her hand and he took it. She swung their jointed hands back in forth in big arcs as they walked and chattered about the drive. She asked him about Hasetsu and how his flight had been and he told her. 

Theia, Yuri soon discovered, owned a vintage canary yellow Volkswagen beetle that she had dubbed “Dolly.” Dolly was getting along in her years and was prone to making odd noises, sending the occasional fume up from the engine in the back, and throwing temper tantrums. 

When Yuri asked Theia what she meant by ‘temper tantrums,’ she laughed darkly. 

“Give it time,” she said. “You’ll see.” 

Maria had lovely dark skin and big full lips under a smattering of freckles that danced across her nose. She had a big smile and very wavy hair, which she had tied back to make it more manageable. Even though she was tucked behind the steering wheel, Yuri could see she was extremely curvy. He liked her immediately. 

“So,” Theia asked, once they were all buckled in and Maria had pulled Dolly away from the curb. “Dinner. Where do you want to go?” 

“I have no idea,” Yuri said. He couldn’t keep the chuckle out of his voice. Theia and Maria had an inescapable energy that surrounding them that lit up Dolly’s small interior and made Yuri feel like he was flying. Theia twirled one of Maria’s hairs around her finger as her fiancé drove. They were so clearly in love with each other that Yuri’s heart ached to have something like it. He was leaning forward, elbows resting on the back of their seats, just so he could soak up more of their energy for himself. 

Theia looked at Maria and shrugged. “I hear carbo loading is good before athletic events.” 

Yuri had no idea what she meant, but Maria did. 

“Pasta then?” she asked. 

Yuri shrugged. “Pasta sounds great.” 

Theia did a quick search on her phone and ten minutes later, Maria was navigating Dolly into a narrow parking space outside a restaurant in the heart of the downtown. 

“It says here that they make fresh pasta,” Theia said, reading through the restaurant’s description on her phone. “Good atmosphere…friendly wait staff…sounds perfect. Let’s go in!” 

The atmosphere of the restaurant was indeed vibrant, and there were lots of people packed into the place. Standing in the middle of it all before they were seated, Yuri felt the threat of another panic attack looming, but Theia but her hand on his back and stood on her toes to ask him a question and that was all the grounding he needed. 

“You looked a little rattled when you came out of the elevator,” she said loudly, struggling to let her voice be heard over the din, “what happened? Hot guy come along and sweep you off your feet?” 

Yuri’s jaw dropped when he turned to look at her. “How did you know?” 

She laughed. “Yuri, we met at a GSA meeting. I’ve watched enough boys try and flirt with you to know how you usually take it.” 

Yuri looked at her uncomprehendingly. “I understood absolutely none of that.” 

A hostess came along and led them to a table. Maria and Theia sat down next to each other; Yuri sat across from them. It was a little quieter in this corner of the restaurant and Theia lowered her voice. She leaned across the table to talk to Yuri when Maria opened up the menu and started browsing through the dinner choices. 

“The GSA—that’s the gay-straight alliance. Do you know what that means?” 

Yuri shook his head. He felt as uncomfortable as he always did when he couldn’t remember something, but Theia didn’t seem to mind. She knew, after all, all the difficulties he’d been having after his accident. 

“Being gay, or homosexual, means you like the same gender that you are,” Theia said. “I’m gay; I like girls. I like Maria.” 

“Good to know,” Maria said dryly from behind her menu. 

Theia paused to give her fiancé a dazzling smile. Again, Yuri’s heart squeezed, and he wondered if he had ever had someone who looked at him like that, or if he would ever get the chance to look at someone like that. 

“You’re also gay,” Theia said. “You told me so after one of my friends tried to hit on you. You like guys, men.” She finished, she waved her hand vaguely towards the end. 

“Oh.” Yuri said. He could feel his face flushing. Somehow, this was different than all the other times someone had had to explain something to him. It felt more personal. Yuri got the feeling that what gender someone did or did not like was not a topic usually discussed so casually over the dinner table. That Theia was willing to do so to help Yuri endeared her to him even more. 

Maria dropped her menu. “Basically what Maria is saying that if you’re going to get it on with anybody, you’re only gonna do it with dudes.” She gave Yuri an appraising look. “I bet you’re a—” 

“Maria,” Thalia hissed. She was blushing a little bit now too. “That is _so not_ appropriate.” 

Maria blinked at Theia. “Why not? You seemed comfortable enough a minute ago.” 

“Yeah, but I wasn’t talking about,” she gestured in a way that was meant to imply something that Yuri didn’t understand. “That stuff.” 

“What?” Maria asked. “Sex?” 

“What’s sex?” Yuri asked. 

Theia was a bright shade of red now. Maria laughed, but Yuri got the feeling she wasn’t laughing at him so much as at her fiancé’s reaction. 

“Sex, honey, is when two people love each other very much, so they get together and take off all their clothes and roll around in the sheets, kissing and licking and touching each other until one or both of them reaches their climax.” Maria explained, turning to face him. 

Theia buried her face in her hands. Her ears were a glaring shade of crimson. “Don’t say it like that—it sounds weird when you say it like that.” 

Maria made a face, like if there was something absurd about what Theia had just said. “Sex _is_ weird,” she said. “That’s part of what makes is so much fun.” 

“Oh my God,” Theia moaned. “This isn’t happening. This is not happening to me.” 

Yuri was openly laughing with Maria now, although he could feel his face going as red as Theia’s. 

“So how does it work?” He asked Maria. 

She made a thin smile as she tried to hold back the laugh escaping her lips. “Well I have no idea how it works for _you_ honey, but Theia and I—” 

“Would you all like something to drink?” Asked the perky waitress who had just materialized at the end of the table. 

Theia pulled herself off the table. “I will have a glass of water,” she said, “a nice, tall, cold glass of water.” 

When the server looked at Maria, Maria smirked. “We’ll have the same,” she said. “I have a feeling we’re going to need it.” 

“Can we please stop talking about this?” Theia gasped when the server was gone. 

Maria gave Yuri a sad smile, but there was laughter still dancing in her eyes. “Looks like you’re going to have to figure out how your kind of sex works on your own, honey,” she said. 

He shrugged, but he was grinning a little too. He was still very lost, but it didn’t feel like it. “Oh well.” 

When the waitress came back, the three of them each ordered their dinner. Maria had explained a lot of the different kinds of pasta and the included ingredients in each dish to Yuri, with help from pictures she pulled up on her phone. Theia was still recovering from the earlier conversation. For the rest of the night, they three of them stuck on what Theia referred to as strictly “G-rated topics” and she heavily policed Maria to keep her from any impertinent deviations. Yuri thanked them both for everything they had done for him while they waited for their food. He told Theia about his theory that she had musical superpowers and added that he thought Maria’s voice was especially beautiful. This made both of the woman blush and they thanked him heartily. 

The pasta was, as Theia had predicted, wonderful and freshly made. All in all, Yuri thought that it was probably one of the best nights he had had since his accident in July and it warmed his heart. After dinner, the three of them wandered around the big park and square right down the street from the restaurant. Maria took a picture of Yuri and Theia posing in front of one of the fountains. He liked it enough that he got Theia to guide him through the process of making it the lock screen on his phone. She smiled when he showed it to her. 

After a while, they went back to the hotel and they each hugged him goodnight and wished him luck in the lobby. 

“It was nice to get to meet you,” he told Maria. 

She winked at him. “You got my number now, honey, so if you ever need any help with the s-e-x stuff, you shoot me a text or drop me a line. I know how confusing it can be, trying to figure out the rules to a game that everyone seems to know but nobody’s willing to tell.” 

He smiled and hugged her again. 

“Thank you,” he said. And he meant it. 

He gave Theia a tight hug when it was her turn to say goodbye. 

“Thank you,” he said as she gave him a squeeze. “For everything. I can’t begin to tell you how helpful it’s been, and I don’t just mean the music.” 

“I’ll always be there when you need me, Yuri,” she said. “You can count on me too if you have any questions about stuff that you don’t want to ask anyone else.” 

“I know,” he said, and at last they pulled away. 

“Go get ‘em tiger!” Maria shouted back at him as the pair of them walked back out the building. Yuri shook a fist by his head because it felt like the right thing to do. He could hear Maria laughing even after the doors had closed. When they were gone, Yuri fished his room key and the card with the room numbed out of his back pocket and hit the button for the elevator. 

“That’s a really good pair of friends you’ve got there,” the receptionist told him as the doors dinged open. 

Yuri glanced back towards the entrance of the hotel and then back at the lady. He was still giddy on Theia and Maria’s energy. “I know,” he said with a smile. He stepped into the elevator and let the doors slide shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys have been wondering what my Editor is like...she's Maria. I accidentally used her personality as a template for Maria. 
> 
> Best part was that I didn't even realize this until I gave her the fic to edit and I was just "You're going to love Maria! She sings and she's into sex jokes and...oh..."


	30. WYWSHA: Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you high key realize that you skipped two chapters because you were looking for Yuri waking up then chose the wrong morning because you had skipped ahead to look at something else. 
> 
> God, I need help. Sorry for the confusion fam. No update tonight because you're getting two now. Still debating whether or not I'll post tomorrow morning. 
> 
> Please, please forgive my mess of a life.

Yuri woke up late the next morning. Tonight, he would compete in the short program. Despite the fact that of the two programs, Yuri had been working on this one for the longest, his heart still pounded in nervous anticipation. Hopefully, hopefully he would be good enough. He wanted to win the final gold so badly his heart ached with it. Yuri showered and got dressed in a daze. He and Yuuko-chan found a restaurant near the hotel and had lunch together. The welcome ceremony would be at 7:00. The hours stretched ahead of him, empty and foreboding. He wished he could do something, go skate, practice his jumps, _anything._

When the time came, Yuri and Yuuko-chan got dressed for the ceremonies, barely speaking to each other as they did so. Yuri’s heart had started doing flips in his chest. They walked to the elevators together and rode down in silence. 

“Everything thing’s going to be fine,” Yuuko-chan breathed when they reached the lobby. Yuri glanced at her. For the first time, it occurred to him that she might be as nervous as he was. 

“I know,” he told her. 

She gave him a panicked smile in return. 

Somehow, knowing that Yuuko-chan was nervous too made Yuri feel a little calmer. He wasn’t alone in his anxiety. If Yuuko-chan could hold herself together like this and coach him, he could do the same. He’d skate today, and it would be good. 

They walked through the parking lot to the car Yuuko-chan had rented and she drove them over to the center. When she gave the attendant at the venue their identification, he waved them towards the lot reserved for competitors and their coaches. Yuuko-chan parked. They both sat in the car and stard at the Hershey Centre for a moment. 

“We can do this,” Yuuko-chan told herself. “We’re going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay.” 

“I know,” Yuri said quietly. 

Yuuko-chan glanced at him. “Are you nervous, Yuri?” she asked. 

He hesitated. “A little,” he admitted. “I’ve only ever really skated for you and Minako and the triplets and people who knew me before. People who I knew I could depend on and wouldn’t judge me too harshly when I failed or stumbled. A part of me is afraid of what skating in front of a crowd of strangers will be like, but I think a bigger part is excited to show them what I can do.” 

“The new and improved Katsuki Yuri,” Yuuko-chan said. She flashed a wry smile. “Are you ready to do this?” she asked. 

Yuri nodded firmly. For once, the world didn’t start spinning when he did. “I’ve been ready since the day I came back to the Ice Castle and I found out what I could do.” 

Yuuko-grinned, and there was nothing but pure joy underlying it this time. “Then let’s do this thing.” 

Together, they walked into the center, Yuuko kept both of her hands on Yuri’s shoulders and steered him through the crowd. He got a little dizzy when he saw how many people there were, but Yuri gave his shoulders a squeeze and it grounded him again. He was still wearing his glasses, although he knew he’d have to take them off before the competition. He wanted to be able to drink in as much of this as he could; as far as his memory was concerned, this was the first time he’d ever done something like this. 

After the ceremonies, the ice dance short program began. Yuri took advantage of the time to change into the uniform his mother had put together for him. Yuuko-chan and Minako had designed it, with a little input from Yuri. Apparently, costumes for the short program tended to be a little more theatric, but Yuri, whose focus was more on his skating, had tried to angle for something a little subtler. 

The piece that Theia had been working on which she had sent to him to review for his short program and that he had ultimately used was called “The Tangled Threads of Fate.” Minako and Yuuko-chan had tried to design something to go with that. Originally, they had planned his outfit to look far more colorful, but Yuri had intervened. The final design looked more like half of a white eight-point star was stuck to his side. The sleeves ended a little past his elbows and he wore fingerless gloves. Everything but the star was black, although there were some sequins. It made Yuri look like he was the embodiment of the night sky. 

When he emerged, Yuuko-chan grabbed his wrist and dragged him into an abandoned bathroom. She forced him to sit on the counter of sinks while she put makeup on him. Yuri had questioned how this could possibly be necessary, but she had insisted. He had sat still and tilted his face left and right as Yuuko-instructed while she went to work. 

When Yuuko-chan was done with him, Yuri glanced in the mirror behind him. He looked like himself, but…sharper. She had given him eyeliner that winged out at the tips of his eyes and done something with his cheeks to make them look a little less round. The inside corners of his eyes shimmered a little. His hair had been slicked back too. 

“Good?” she asked. 

Yuri nodded. He actually looked like he could be a professional figure skater now, and not a twenty-five-year-old amnesiac from southern Japan with unreasonable aspirations. 

_One of the best._ He reminded himself. _I’m one of the best._

Some impulse had led him to bring the soft grey sweater with him from home and Yuri tugged it on over his head before they left the bathroom and then threw his athletic bag back over his shoulders. He could feel his skates clunk against his back when he did. His heart pounded. He could do this. 

Yuuko-chan groaned when she saw him step into the hallway. “You’ve messed up your hair. Where’s your warm-up jacket? Why are you wearing that?” 

Yuri shrugged. “It’s my lucky sweater,” he said. The words felt right to him, somehow. He wondered if they were actually true. He could hear the rumble of voices that meant there were lot of people nearby. 

Yuuko-chan gave him a look that was equal parts adoration and suffering. “If you say so, Yuri.” 

“Yuri!” he heard someone scream. He turned and there was Theia at the end of the hall, Maria just behind her, a soft smile on her wide lips. Theia sprinted towards him and threw her arms around when she came to him. She gave him a tight squeeze. 

“I was so worried that you’d slip away before we could get the chance to find you!” she said when she pulled away. 

“How’s it going, Tiger?” Maria asked. “I like your sex hair.” 

“My what?” he asked. 

Maria reached forward and dragged her hands through his hair. “Your sex hair. It looks good on you.” 

“I can’t believe you,” Theia groaned. 

“Shh. I’m his mama now and I’ll tell him what I want.” She glanced at Yuri. “I decided last night that Theia and I are adopting you. You don’t have a choice. We’re your lesbian godmothers. Your gay parents.” Her eyes lit up as she thought of something. She looked at Theia. “We can be his gayrentals!” 

“My what?” 

“Gay plus parentals. Gayrentals. Get on my brainwave, boy.” 

Yuri laughed. “Okay. Thanks Mama.” 

Maria gave him a thumbs up. 

“How are you feeling?” Theia asked. “Not nervous or anything?” 

“Sort of, but not really,” Yuri admitted, and it was true. Just seeing them made the tightness in his chest ease. 

Maria grinned. “There’s my Tiger,” she said. 

Yuri introduced them both to Yuuko-chan, who waved hello, but mostly kept to herself. She looped an arm through his and leaned on his shoulder. He wondered who the gesture was meant to be more comforting to: him or Yuuko-chan. 

“So it the short program is tonight?” Theia asked when formalities were out of the way. “Maria and I were looking at the schedule. We’ve been trying to crash-course educate ourselves on how figure skating works.” 

Yuri nodded. “Then the free program is tomorrow night. The awards ceremony for the men’s singles and Ice Dancing will be after they finish both of those events. And then the night after that is the gala.” 

“A gala?” Maria asked. “Sounds fun. Shame we might have to leave before we can crash it.” She gave Yuri a wink to let him know she was joking and he laughed. He was definitely feeling better now. Knowing that there would be people in the audience throughout this whole event who loved and supported him no matter what…that was a big comfort. 

“Alright, Yuri,” Theia said. She threw her arms around him one last time. “We’ll leave you to it. Make your Mamas proud. We’ll be the ones cheering the loudest.” 

He smiled. “Alright. I’ll try to do my absolute best.” 

“I wouldn’t want anything else,” Theia said firmly, and then Maria took her hand and the two of them disappeared once more back down the hall towards the seating for the rink. 

“I like them,” Yuuko-chan said with a laugh when they were gone. “They’re funny.” 

“I think they may just be two of my favorite people in the world right now,” Yuri said. 

Yuuko-chan gave his shoulders another squeeze. “Mine too. Ready to go?” 

“Absolutely.”


	31. WYWSHA: Chapter 31

Yuuko-chan led him resolutely to the room that had been set aside for skaters to warm up in. Yuri dropped his bag on a chair then hesitated. He glanced over to where she was studying a schedule posted along the wall. 

“Do you think I’m supposed to know any of these people?” Yuri asked. “Do you think they’ll expect me to know them? 

Yuuko-chan turned and looked at him. “There are a few skaters who you’ve met before. I checked who else was assigned here before we left; a Swiss skater named Christophe Giacometti and a boy from…Kazakhstan? Otabek Altin? The three of you were all at the Grand Prix Finals together last year.” 

“Oh,” Yuri said. 

So he had made it to the Grand Prix Finals last year. The thought gave him hope that he could do it again this year. He opened his mouth to ask Yuuko-chan if he’d ever beaten them, then changed his mind. He had decided he didn’t want to know about his past career for a reason. Knowing how he had matched up against them before was only going to make them nervous again. He would just have to skate as well as he could and hope it would be enough. He pulled his phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants then fished his earphones out of his athletic bag. 

“If they ask about me, or try to talk to me, will you tell them I’m trying to focus on warming up and I’ll talk to them later?” He asked Yuuko-chan. He didn’t want to be put off balance by having an awkward conversation with two people he had no memory of ever meeting. 

Yuuko-chan smiled. “Of course.” 

She turned back to the schedule and he went back to warming up. Slowly but surely, other skaters started to trickle in. None of them looked familiar, and none of them tried to speak with him. Yuuko-chan tapped his elbow when the last on-ice warm-up came. Yuri swallowed down the nerves that started wrapping themselves around his throat and followed her into the arena. The stands weren’t packed, but there were definitely starting to fill up. Yuuko-chan shouted some instructions at him that he followed without really processing what he was doing. 

When the minutes were up, Yuri came off the ice. Yuuko-chan escorted him back to the waiting room. Everything felt extremely distant, as if Yuri were experiencing it through a haze. They drew cards from a bag to determine the order they would present their programs. Yuri was third. He continued to warm up, headphones in so he wouldn’t have to talk to the other skaters. When it came time, Yuuko-chan led him out into the rink again, muttering last minute tips into Yuri’s ear. He barely heard them. 

The next thing he knew, Yuuko-chan was nudging him onto the ice. He skated to the center without thinking about it. When the music started, Yuri took a deep breath and tried to imagine he was back in the Ice Castle, and he had just discovered what it felt like to fly across the ice. He started skating. A few minutes later, it was over. Yuuko-chan hugged him and led him to a section she called the “kiss-and-cry” to get his scores. He just missed breaking the one hundred mark. Yuuko-chan sighed with relief. 

“I think, all things considered,” she said, “that’s a better place to start than I would have expected.” 

“I’m not winning,” Yuri pointed out as they walked back to get his stuff. 

“No,” she agreed, “but you’re probably not going to lose this one either, and it’s still early in the season. When we get home, we can work on this and make it better.” 

“I might actually do this,” Yuri laughed, nerves shedding away from him. 

Yuuko-chan pushed back her hair. She looked so relieved. “I know!” she said. 

They found Maria and Theia in the stands once Yuri had collected his things. Theia gave him a big hug. 

“That was wonderful,” she whispered into his ear. 

“Good job, Tiger,” Maria said, throwing herself around the both of them. “You made your mamas proud.” 

They sat down together and Yuri found himself paying more attention to Theia and Maria than the other skaters that followed his program. Maria was rating everyone based off of their costumes (she had given Yuri a ten out of ten then added a point for his “sex hair”). As far as Maria was concerned, Yuri was the best skater of the bunch, and hearing her tell him so lifted his heart. 

When all the other skaters had finished, their little group got up and left the arena together. Yuri was currently in third. Maria was scheming about how he might still pull into first, but Yuri knew that everything could still change tomorrow. He kept his fingers crossed that he would just stay on the podium. 

“Yuri,” someone called as they were leaving. A shiver went down his spine. Maria, who’s arm was curled into his, stopped and turned around. He and Theia did too. Yuuko-chan stopped by the door, looking concerned. 

It was the foreign man from yesterday. Yuri felt his neck go hot. Mari leaned her head on his shoulder. 

“Is this the guy who had you all hot and bothered when Theia met you yesterday?” she breathed into his ear. “Because I’m gay, but he’s super hot.” 

The man walked up to them and stopped in front of Yuri. He glanced over Theia and Maria and then returned his focus to Yuri. 

“I was hoping I would run into you again and here you are. You skated beautifully.” 

Yuri stared at the man. “How do you know my name?” he asked. 

The man chuckled. Another shudder went down his spine. “That’s right,” the man mused to himself. “I never properly introduced myself yesterday, did I?” 

“Not really,” Yuri said. His voice was surprisingly even. Thank God. He had been worried for a moment that this was one of the two people Yuuko-chan had warned him he was supposed to know. 

The man held out his hand. “Séraphin de Cupidon. I am here for the competition also. I heard your name when they announced you; that’s how I knew it.” 

Yuri shook Séraphin’s proffered hand. It was as soft as velvet against Yuri’s sweaty palm. “Pleased to meet you.” He said. 

Séraphin held onto Yuri’s hand a moment longer than necessary. His fingers grazed the inside of Yuri’s wrist when he let go. Yuri felt his cheeks burn. He was sure he looked ridiculous, standing there with his luck sweater pulled on over his sweatpants, but still in the make-up Yuuko-chan had put on him. Séraphin, in contrast, looked perfectly put together. There wasn’t a single spec of dirt on his warm-up jacket. His black scarf was artfully draped around his neck. Even the fringes on the end seemed to fall perfectly in place. 

Séraphin’s eyes drifted over Yuri’s shoulder to where Yuuko-chan was standing by the door. 

“I better let you go,” he said. “Your coach looks like I’m about to drag you into some dark corner and have my way with you.” He glanced back to Yuri. “Good luck tomorrow, Katsuki Yuri. I’ll be watching you.” 

He walked past them, pausing at the door to give Yuuko-chan a smile. Yuri, Maria and Theia turned to watch him go. Maria whistled when he was gone. 

“Now that was interesting,” she said. “I think that man actually made me question my sexuality, and that’s saying something.” 

Theia crinkled her nose. “I didn’t like him,” she said. “Something about him…” she shuddered. 

“My darling boo,” Maria said. “It’s called being a steaming hunk of man meat. If you didn’t like him, it was because he was so overwhelmingly and beautifully masculine that he repelled your hot lesbian piece of ass.” 

Maria took this opportunity to reach around Yuri and smack Theia in the butt. Theia jumped. 

“We’re in a public place!” she hissed. 

“Like that makes a difference? That guy basically just screwed Yuri with his eyes! As far as I’m concerned, what I did was far more G-rated!” 

Yuri was still staring at the door Séraphin had left through. What…what had just happened? 

“Aww, no, I think my Tiger is in shock.” Maria said, throwing an arm around Yuri’s shoulders. “It’s okay, Honey. Mama Maria will protect you from the smooth, smoking hot, seductive, super—” 

Theia must have known was Maria was about to say next because she cut her fiancé off with a shrill “Maria!” 

Yuri chuckled. Hearing them tease each other brought him back to the moment. He shook Séraphin from his mind. Together, the three of them started walking towards Yuuko-chan, who looked more than happy to be rid of the Frenchman. 

“Ready to go back to the hotel?” She asked him. 

Yuri nodded. In the parking lot, he and Yuuko-chan parted ways with Theia and Maria, who promised that they would be there again tomorrow. Maria was absently wondering whether or not the female figure skaters would be at attractive as Séraphin as she dropped herself into Dolly. Theia gave Yuri a long-suffering, but blissful look over the roof of the car and he gave her a thumbs up. She flashed one back and then they were gone. 

Yuuko-chan and Yuri walked back to their rental car together and Yuuko-chan drove them back to the hotel. She collapsed onto the bed as soon as they got back to the room and groaned. 

“Wake me up when it’s morning,” she mumbled. 

Yuri took a shower and then got dressed for bed. He paused for a moment at the window and looked out. What little of the city he could see was calm and quiet. Feeling suddenly cold, Yuri pulled on his lucky sweater, dragged the covers on his bed aside so he could get in, and went to sleep.


	32. WYWSHA: Chapter 32

The room was filled with a hazy grey light the next morning when Yuri blinked away the last remnants of his dream. He tried to remember what it had been about, but it was gone. All he had left was the vague feeling of someone’s arm draped across his waist while he slept. In the bed next to his, Yuuko-chan was still sleeping. 

_She must not get a lot of sleep,_ he thought, _with the triplets always running around and causing trouble. It must be nice for her to finally get to just get to sleep in._

He got dressed as quietly as he could, then checked the time at his phone. Only nine thirty. He wouldn’t have to be at the center for another eight hours or so. His stomach grumbled, and he briefly considered waking up Yuuko-chan so they could go get breakfast together. He glanced back over to where she was sleeping, and made the decision then to let her be. She had been so tired yesterday, and worried about the triplets…clearly, being a coach was not an easy job. She deserved this. 

He grabbed his room key and checked to make sure the paper with all the hotel room was still in his wallet. He considered grabbing his coat, but when he checked the weather, he saw that it was far warmer today than it had been yesterday. He tugged on his lucky sweater instead. After a second’s hesitation, Yuri grabbed his athletic bag too. Something inside of him just squirmed at the thought of leaving it behind, although he couldn’t quite saw why. 

Séraphin wasn’t at the elevators this morning when Yuri reached them, and he didn’t know whether he should be relieved or upset. The Frenchman always left Yuri feeling hazy, as if he were living in a dream. The elevator doors opened with a ding. The most intimidating teenager Yuri had ever seen was standing inside. Trying his best to look small and unthreatening, Yuri slipped inside. They rode down in silence, Yuri being careful to keep his gaze away from the other boy’s intense brown eyes. When they reached the ground floor, Yuri waited until the teenager had walked off the elevator before he followed. 

Yuri’s stomach growled again and he remembered his original mission: breakfast. The hotel wait staff were already clearing up the remains of the comp breakfast when Yuri peaked his head into the dining room. When he walked back into the lobby, the receptionist looked up. 

“If you’re looking for the trolley that goes downtown, it should be here in about two minutes.” 

Well, he hadn’t been, but if it was going downtown… 

He thought about the square that he, Theia and Maria had wandered around in after dinner his first night. He would definitely be able to find somewhere to get breakfast there. 

“Thank you,” he said. “Just wait outside? Is there any cost?” 

The receptionist smiled. “Nope. Just tell the driver your room number.” 

Yuri headed towards the doors. He was almost through them when he paused and looked back. “Does it make a return trip?” 

If he was going to go downtown, he’d better have a way to get back before Yuuko-chan started panicking. 

The receptionist beamed. “Absolutely! Just ask the driver and he’ll tell you where his pick-up location is.” 

Yuri stepped outside and glanced around. A few families stood together, and couples here and there. Some people stood alone, checking their phones. As promised, the trolley rolled up two minutes later. Yuri stepped on and told the driver his room number and found a seat in the back by himself. He watched the landscape roll by when the bus took off again. It felt strange, being in a foreign city on his own, but also good, like if the accident had never happened and he had never given anyone cause to worry. 

The bus stopped in the square that Yuri had been in before and the driver announced that he would be picking people up at that spot every half hour before all the passengers got off. Yuri thanked the man when it was his turn to leave and stepped into the already busy scene. 

On the green across the street, children were already running around while their parents lounged on blankets in the grass. Above him, Yuri could see people strolling or sitting by the fountain, enjoying the cool morning air. Yuri paused a moment and pulled out his phone. He made a quick search for coffee shops in the area and found one around the corner. Path set, he headed off. 

There weren’t many people in the shop when Yuri walked in, which was nice. It had a nice atmosphere too; a fireplace was along one wall and there were booths and tables to sit in, as well as a pair of leather armchairs. Yuri ordered a coffee and a croissant, then settled down in one of the armchairs. He scrolled through his messages to see if Mari or anyone from home had texted him, but there was nothing. Theia had taken his phone the other night and she and Maria had set up various new social media accounts or discovered ones he hadn’t logged into in months. 

He opened up his snapchat and absentmindedly flipped through the stories of a lot people he didn’t know who he was supposed to be friends with. One of them looked like they were from Thailand. It was interesting, examining this new aspect of the Old-Yuri’s life. He had had friends from all over the world, it seemed. Had they met at figure skating competitions? While he was at school in Detroit? Would he ever recognize their faces again, or would they remain strangers to him forever? 

Yuri was so caught up in his contemplations that he didn’t notice when someone settled down in the chair next to him. 

“We must stop meeting like this, no?” Séraphin said. 

Yuri felt his neck flush. He closed out of snapchat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he managed to choke out. He resolutely kept his eyes focused on the home screen of his phone. 

“Oh, Yuri,” Séraphin said. To Yuri’s horror, he reached out and stroked a hand up Yuri’s arm until it came to rest on Yuri’s shoulder. “I think you do.” 

As much as Yuri wished to run screaming from the shop and hide in some private corner of the world, he was also glued to his seat. Despite his pounding heart, Yuri managed to turn his face to look at the other man. Séraphin was inches from him. Yuri’s heart leapt and landed somewhere in his throat. 

Séraphin leaned in a little closer. Yuri leaned back. “We have some time before the skate tonight, and I’m not doing anything. What about you? Are you free? We could do something together, if you want.” 

Yuri opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Séraphin leaned forward and kissed him. It was over just as quickly as it had happened. “Think about it, hm?” Séraphin asked. He traced a finger along Yuri’s jaw, then slapped his cheek lightly. Séraphin stood up. “Room 696, when you want to come find me. I’ll be waiting.” 

He walked off. Yuri stared at the place where he had been, trying to process what, exactly, had just happened to him. 

“What. The. Hell.” Yuri mouthed once he started coming to himself again. He glanced over his shoulder, but the Frenchman was already gone. 

The thing was, Yuri couldn’t deny he was attracted to the man. He’d texted Maria his symptoms. She’d come back with an unquestionable diagnosis. But whether or not Yuri wanted to take Séraphin up on his increasingly overt offers was beyond him. Last night, Yuri had taken advantage of some of his free time and done as Maria had suggested during their conversation at the restaurant; he’d looked up how “his” kind of sex had worked. It had been strange, and to an extent, disturbing, but it wasn’t as if Yuri had anyone else to ask. The only friends of his who he felt comfortable talking about this with were lesbians; they couldn’t help him. 

He had texted Maria about it a little after he had made his discoveries. She’d done her best to comfort him, saying that at least he knew now, and wouldn’t feel awkward if the situation ever arose where he was _in_ that position. Well, the situation was here now. Séraphin clearly wanted to sleep with him, although Yuri couldn’t begin to imagine why. The question that Yuri’s mind kept circling back to was, did Yuri actually want to sleep with Séraphin as well? It was hard to say, especially with how complicated everything was right then. He felt like a child, or a teenager, alone and woefully unprepared against the dangerous world. Once again, he wished for his memories back, if only so he could have some context. What would the old Yuri have done? 

But the old Yuri was dead and never coming back. The thought made his heart race. Not for the first time, he wished he had never had his accident. But it was wishful thinking, and as much as he tried, he couldn’t _make_ himself remember any faster. As much as Maria and Theia could try and help, he would have to figure this one out on his own.


	33. WYWSHA: Chapter 33

Yuri finished his croissant and left the shop, dumping the pastry bag in the trash on his way out. He held onto the coffee, sipping every now and then as he walked. Mississauga was not a very interesting city. Yuri searched for things to do, but the results either didn’t interest him or were too far away to walk to. In the end, he wound up wandering through a small art museum attached to the now familiar Celebration Square. It was an interesting place, and there were a couple of pieces that Yuri stopped to look at closer. 

_It’s kind of like skating,_ Yuri thought as he examined one painting. It was of three people standing in front of a frozen river, but it was painted in bright colors, and all of the lines curved. _Except we don’t paint on a canvas, we paint on the ice, and we use our bodies, not paint, to express ourselves._

He lingered for a long time in a gallery full of black and white photos of people. Some of them looked straight on into the camera, others posed with each other. It was nice, Yuri reflected, to be able to look at photographs and not be expected to know the people who posed inside them. He wondered what these people’s lives had been like. If they had been happy and loved and well-cared for. Yuri had just leaned forward to get a better look at one photo when his phone began buzzing angrily in his pocket. He pulled it out and answered it without looking at who was calling. 

“Yuri?” Yuuko-chan demanded when he held the phone up to his ear. 

The two girls in the photo were holding up a puppy. They didn’t look like sisters. How had they met? 

“Mmm,” he said. He moved onto the next photo that caught his eye. 

“Where are you?” 

Two men sat on a rock in the middle of a field. They were laughing, and Yuri wondered what had happened, what one of them had said or done, to make their eyes crinkle in joy like that. He wondered how they had ended up on a rock in the middle of a field in the first place. 

“In an art gallery,” he said. 

He heard Yuuko-chan draw a deep and ragged breath. 

“Okay,” she said. “Okay. You’re looking at art then. That must be nice. How long have you been doing that?” 

In the next photo, a woman was stringing boots up on a line outside a tent. What was she doing? Was she trying to dry them off? 

“I don’t know,” Yuri said. “Half hour? Maybe more?” 

“Do you know what I’ve been doing in that time, Yuri?” Yuuko-chan asked. 

Yuri moved onto the next photograph. “Sleeping?” he asked. “Getting dressed? I don’t know. I’m not with you.” 

“Exactly, Yuri. You’re. Not. With. Me.” 

It took Yuri a moment to process that she was angry with him. A moment longer to figure out why. 

“Oh,” he said. In the photo in front of him, a man with a long bar over his shoulder glanced down at the camera. A metal-looking tower made up of crisscrossing lines rose behind him. The photo was huge. 

“’Oh,’ is right Yuri! You didn’t think you could have woken me up before you left? Let me know what you were thinking so I could come with you?” 

Yuri searched for a description of the photo; he wanted to know what the man was doing. “I didn’t want to bother you.” He said. “And I’m fine. I was going to come back once I’d finished up here.” 

**‘Roughneck at a B.A. Oil company drill site, Turner Valley, 1951’** the placard next to the photo read. It went on to describe how the photographer had been drawn to industrial sites and become acquainted with the workers there. 

“You—you couldn’t have left a text? Or a note? Or anything?” Yuuko-chan demanded. 

“I forgot,” Yuri said. He shrugged to himself. “I left thinking I’d be back before you woke up, but then I had some time to kill, so I stopped into the art gallery and then I lost track of time. I’m sorry, Yuuko-chan. I should have done something. It’s just a simple mistake on my part, is all.” 

“Yuri,” Yuuko-chan said, and her voice sounded tragic. “I know this is hard for you, but you can’t afford to make ‘simple mistakes’ like this. You can’t wander off on your own; it’s too dangerous.” 

Yuri’s skin crawled at that comment. He resisted the urge to hang up then and there on Yuuko-chan. Had he not just told her that he was fine? The next photo was of a mother and her daughter, standing in an old western-style kitchen. The mother stood at the stove, holding a pot in one hand while she turned a knob with the other. She was smiling at her daughter, who was stirring something in a white bowl with a wooden spoon. Would she have treated her daughter like Yuuko-chan was treating him? 

“Yuri,” Yuuko-chan said when he didn’t reply right away. 

“I’ll finish up here soon,” he said, “and then I’ll come back to the hotel. There’s a trolley that comes every half-hour. I’m sorry I made you worry.” 

He pulled the phone away and hung up. The peace and contentment he’d found in the art gallery was gone. He was frustrated that Yuuko-chan was treating him like a child when he was far past the point of being one, frustrated that no one trusted that he could handle being on his own, or do any of the things he had once been free to do. Yuri highly doubted that, previous to his accident, he would have been told that it was too dangerous to wander off on his own. He doubted that anyone would have noticed at all, actually. As much as Yuri was trying to work past the life he had forgotten, sometimes he wished he could return to it, if only so people would stop acting like he was a fragile, breakable thing that was likely to fall apart the moment they left it alone. 

Still, Yuri was determined not to let his good mood leave him entirely. He took selfies with the portraits for his snapchat story and sent a few to Theia and Maria with the caption “Wishing You Were Somehow Here” and “Look at my new friends!” 

Maria replied with a ten second video of her laughing hysterically, which lifted Yuri’s spirits. 

Before he left, he took a photo of the gallery and posted it to the Instagram Theia and Maria had set up for him last night. Maria had made a strong case for Sk8rBoi_Yuri or Yuri-KatsuTIGER, but he had begged them for something more reasonable. In the end, he’d been landed with Katsucutie_Yuri. He smiled every time he saw it. Two seconds after the photo was up, Maria and Theia had liked it. 

“Good to know I have such wonderful, supportive women as my Gayrentals,” he texted them as he waited for the bus. 

Theia replied with a mass text that was just hearts and kissy emojis. Maria replied caps. “NOW GO MAKE YOUR MAMAS PROUD.” And then “we’re just lucky to have such a beautiful and talented son.” 

He got back on the bus with the other hotel patrons when it came. He fiddled with his phone a little, wanting to text someone, but not sure what to say or who to talk to if he did. The only friends of his that he actually knew were Maria and Theia. All the people he had on snapchat…all of the contacts that had transferred onto this phone from the cloud storage on his old one…they were all strangers to him, and he had no idea who he was supposed to be to them, either. 

Yuri went straight up to his room when he got to the hotel. Yuuko-chan tried to lecture him when he came back to the room, but he collapsed on his bed and claimed he was tired, so she left him alone. What had Yuri done with all this spare time at competitions before? His plan to explore the city had been neatly nixed by Yuuko-chan and he doubted now that she would let him out of her sight for the rest of the weekend. 

Yuri pulled his headphones out of his athletic bag and plugged them into his phone. He turned on Theia and Maria’s recording of “Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again,” and he closed his eyes. 

_Feel the music,_ he thought. _Be the music._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, all of the portraits that Yuri was looking at are real. They were taken by George Hunter and are owned by the Art Gallery of Mississauaga. [Here's](http://mississaugaart.pastperfect-online.com/40467cgi/mweb.exe?request=jump;dtype=d;startat=31) the link for them. The first picture referenced should be the fourth one down and is called "Playmates." The rest of the pictures Yuri looks at should just progress straight down the line from there. 
> 
> As for the painting, which is also owned by the gallery, I am extremely glad that I was lucky enough to find it again (despite the fact I saved neither the name of the piece nor the painter's name) just by looking at random images the gallery can produce. The link for that piece is [here](http://mississaugaart.pastperfect-online.com/40467cgi/mweb.exe?request=image&hex=9972056.JPG).


	34. WYWSHA: Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Only one update today because as you may (or may not have) noticed, I made a bit of an error posting chapters yesterday. I skipped the two chapters with Yuri's short program and where Seraphin got officially introduced (30 and 31) and posted the two that came after that (32 and 33) instead. So, if you missed those earlier chapters, I would strongly recommend you go back and read them. Some things here and coming up might make a little less sense if you don't. 
> 
> But, we are on the back track now and get to do the free skate for the first time! Yay! And more cameos! (But you have to watch closely because Yuri has no idea who these people are. Kudos to anyone who noticed it was Beka in the elevator yesterday). 
> 
> Sorry again for the mix up! I've set up a better system for myself when posting chapters and it shouldn't happen again. Thank you for your continued support, though. Getting to hear from you all everyday actually makes my day and I hate to let you down. So, business out of the way...here's the free skate!

Hours later, Yuuko-chan shook Yuri awake. She didn’t comment on his earlier escapade, but he could tell she was still angry with him from the set of her shoulders. He changed in silence, and she let him. His outfit for the free program was beautifully simple. In the musical, Christine sang the song when she went to visit her father’s grave. Yuri’s free program was about the death of his former self. Therefore, he dressed as if he was going to a funeral. His own, if he was being exact. He packed his lucky sweater into his athletic bag so he could throw it on after. He didn’t want to mess up his hair tonight. When he was ready, he and Yuuko-chan left their room and traveled to the center in silence. Yuuko-chan parked the car and then started pulling her things together. Yuri looked up at the building. 

“I can do this,” he said. 

Yuuko-chan didn’t say anything, but she reached over and squeezed his hand. He met her eyes and nodded. They stepped out of the car and walked into the center together, united in their determination to see this through. 

They did not see Maria and Theia before the performance this time, although Maria sent him a long text about how he was her sweet little honey tiger and no matter how this ended she would always love him forever and ever and ever. 

Theia had followed that up with a quiet “I concur.” 

Their unconditional support lifted his spirits as it had last night. He thought of the long gallery of photographs he had wandered through that morning, contemplating the people at every photo’s center and the lives they had lived. He wasn’t nervous tonight, just…strangely distant. He was already resigned, in a way, to whatever tonight’s results would be. He didn’t think he would make the podium. He had worked and worked on the free program during practices back home, but he couldn’t believe it would be enough. 

_I am the music and the music is me,_ He thought to himself. 

He resolutely ignored the other skaters again and focused on warming enough. Regardless of how he felt about the free program, he wanted to be able to give it his best effort. He thought of Maria and Theia, telling him to make them proud and he smiled. For them, he would do anything. 

Yuuko-chan came and got him again when it was getting close to his turn. The skater came off the ice while the crowd threw bears and flowers onto the ice; when Yuri looked closer, he saw it was the intimidating boy from the elevator that morning. He was quietly glad he had elected to only focus on his own program. Anything that boy produced had to be intense. 

“Are you ready?” Yuuko-chan asked him. 

Yuri sucked in a deep breath and nodded. “Whatever happens, happens, and hopefully, it will be enough.” 

“You sound like you’re about to go to your grave,” Yuuko-chan said. 

He smiled at her a little. “Good thing I’m dressed for a funeral.” 

He was given his cue before she could reply and Yuri skated onto the ice, silently reviewing the jumps and steps and other elements he would need to do. He could do this. He could do this. He could do this. A big whoop went up from the audience before the music began and Yuri knew it was Maria. He smiled. The music started and Yuri fell into the mind of Christine Daaé, trying to say goodbye to what had once been an essential part of his life even as he wished for it back. Around and around the rink he went, trying to make the audience feel his pain and loss. 

_I can do this,_ Yuri thought to himself. Beneath his skates, the ice hissed in sympathy. When it came time for his first jump, the ice lifted him up. He spun through the air. The ice caught him again when it was time to come down. Yuri pushed on. 

_I can do this,_ Yuri thought again. He went through the choreography, jumped when the ice nudged him to. Maria’s rich voice wrapped itself around him, wished with him that his past would just die. The ice threw him up higher into the air on his last jump than he had ever gone, and he stumbled for a moment when he came down, not trusting that the ice would catch him, but then it was time to say goodbye and he was coming back to the center of the arena for the close… 

For as long as the free program was supposed to be, Yuri wasn’t tired when he finished. Yuuko-chan gave him a hug when he got off the ice. 

“That was beautiful,” she whispered in his ear. “Best I’ve seen yet by far.” 

“I’m not even tired,” Yuri told her at the kiss-and-cry while they waited for his scores. “When we get back, I want to look back over everything and see if we can make it more difficult somehow. I know we went easier this time around because we didn’t know if I could take it…” 

“…But you can,” Yuuko-chan finished for him. “We have a month until the NHK Trophy. Let’s make the most of it.” His score came in. Yuuko-chan slumped in relief when she heard them. 

“Is it good?” he asked. “Do you…do you think...” he couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought. He wasn’t even certain about how he even wanted to finish it, but 

Yuuko-chan understood. She nodded. 

“Yes, Yuri. I really do think so.” 

When they were done at the kiss-and-cry, Yuri went and got the rest of his stuff from the warm-up room. He threw on his lucky sweater and put his skates away. “Good job, Yuri!” a tall blond skater yelled from where he was standing by the TV set. Yuri gave him a thumbs up and left to find his Gayrentals. 

Maria and Theia both hugged him when he came to sit down with them. Theia was crying a little bit and Maria looked like she had just bawled her eyes out. Yuuko-chan was already there, watching the next skater with an intent expression. Yuri made silly faces for the selfies that Maria and Theia took once they had composed themselves a bit more. They posted them on Instagram with tags like “that’s our boy!” and “#roadtoGPFGold.” It made Yuri feel a little more present in the moment. 

In the end, Yuri kept his place in third. First and second went to the skaters who had gone to the finals with him last year, the scary boy and the blond skater from the warm-up room. Yuri smiled pleasantly when they said hello to him and replied in turn, but he avoided making small talk. The mere idea of explaining what had happened to him with these men who may as well be strangers made the world start spinning a little and set a headache pulsing behind his eyes. When he bent his head to receive his medal, he could hear Maria and Theia hooting and hollering and cat-calling him in the crowd. He blushed and waved to where he knew they were sitting in the stands. 

“That’s our Yuri!” He heard Maria scream over the din when all three of them had received their medals. 

_Being an opera singer,_ he thought, _must really give her an advantage in these situations._ He blew her a kiss in thanks and he heard her cheers get even louder in response. 

Yuri left the arena that night with Theia and Maria’s arms across his shoulders. He had given Theia his flowers and she was holding them in her free hand. 

Yuuko-chan walked besides them, texting furiously on her phone. 

“I almost forgot!” he said when the group of them reached Dolly. “I bought a copy of _Phantom of the Opera_ that has Japanese subtitles with me.” 

Theia’s jaw dropped. 

“You,” Maria said, “are the perfect son, and any other children I have from this point on will just be a disappointment.” 

Theia looked up at him with wide eyes. “Can we get together sometime before we leave and watch it?” she asked. 

Yuri grinned. “I only have the gala tomorrow, and frankly, spending a bunch of time with people I don’t remember afterwards has no appeal to me.” 

“So…lunch?” Theia asked. 

“And we’ll go out celebrating on our own after!” Maria added. She thrusted her hips a little and threw her hands up in the air. “Uhn. Party on the podium, baby! Our boy got a bronze!” 

“Lunch,” Yuri agreed. 

They drove off and Yuri and Yuuko-chan walked back to the car. 

“I’m proud of you,” Yuuko-chan said, throwing her arm around his shoulders. “I think we’ve all had our doubts about whether or not this would all work out for us, but after tonight…” 

“Anything’s possible if you put your mind to it, Yuuko-chan.” Yuri said. He grinned like a dope at her and she grinned back. He had the sudden memory of sitting with her on a bench back at the ice castle when they were children. She was speaking earnestly to him and gesturing to a magazine, but he couldn’t remember what she had been saying. Still, the idea of hanging out as children, of talking of their figure skating heroes, as he was sure they had been, warmed his heart. He threw an arm around her waist. 

“Thank you,” he told her. 

“Oh, Yuri,” she said. “I only helped here and there.” She tapped the medal around his neck. “This one? It’s all you.”


	35. WYWSHA: Chapter 35

When they got back to the hotel, Yuuko-chan deposited her stuff on the bed and then slipped into the bathroom to take a shower. Yuri’s stomach rumbled. 

“Yuuko-chan!” he called. 

“What is it?” 

“I’m going to go get a snack quickly—I think I saw a vending machine down the hall.” 

“Alright!” Yuuko-chan called. “Thank you for telling me instead of just disappearing again!” 

He laughed as he snagged his hotel key and wallet, and then he slipped out the door and down the hall. 

He had been studying the contents of the vending machine for at least five minutes when he heard someone come up behind him. 

“If you’re looking for something sweet,” Séraphin said. “The…what are they? American M&M’s are a good choice.” 

Séraphin took his time to carefully pronounce every syllable of the candy. The way he rolled each of them out of his mouth sent a slight shiver down Yuri’s spine. His heart shuddered. 

Yuri raised his eyes to look at Séraphin’s reflection in the glass front of the vending machine. It was an interesting portrait to finish off his day; him, Yuri, standing in the foreground, wallet and hotel key pressed to his mouth, his medical bracelet plainly visible on his wrist where it peaked out from beneath the sleeve of his lucky grey sweater, and behind him, Séraphin, looking tall and composed in dark skinny jeans and a black and white striped shirt. Overlaid on top of them, the view of all the candy and chips the machine had to offer. A five-minute snack to ease one’s hunger. 

“Of course” Séraphin continued, “I prefer the peanut ones. I find everything is better with nuts, don’t you? I think they may just be my favorite food.” 

Yuri had the distinct feeling that the Frenchman was no longer talking about candy. 

“Have you made up your mind yet?” Séraphin asked softly. “I waited around all afternoon for you and you never came.” 

Yuri met the other man’s eyes in the vending machine reflection. He almost wished a photographer was here to capture this moment, the decision Yuri made then and there. He was tired of being treated like a child, tired of chasing down a life he would never get back. 

“The M&M’s you said?” Yuri asked. “With nuts?” 

Séraphin’s mouth twisted into a poisonous smile. “Always.” 

Yuri fed the money Yuuko-chan had given him before they had left Hasetsu into the machine, then pressed the appropriate buttons. Séraphin walked forward and crouched to pull the package out of the machine before Yuri had the chance. He shook it a little in front of Yuri’s face. 

“I think I know the perfect place to eat these,” he said. 

Yuri’s heart was pounding now. “Then why don’t you lead the way?” He replied. 

Séraphin held out his hand and Yuri threaded his fingers through it. He didn’t look back as Séraphin led him down the hall in the opposite direction that Yuri had come. 

OOO

Séraphin traced his finger up Yuri’s chest. Yuri closed his eyes. A headache was blooming in the middle of his forehead. 

“Someone knew what they were doing,” Séraphin whispered. “I think that was the best I’ve ever had.” 

_I’m not sure I would agree,_ Yuri thought. _But if it makes you happy…_

The Frenchman landed a kiss on Yuri’s jaw, and Yuri forced himself not to flinch. The bed shifted as Séraphin sat up. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said huskily. “Feel free to join me. If not…promise me you’ll still be here waiting when I get back?” 

Yuri smiled. _You wish,_ He thought to himself. 

As soon as the bathroom door shut, Yuri wiped the lingering feel of the kiss off his jaw. That had to have been the worst thing he had ever experienced, which he supposed wasn’t saying much, because he didn’t have a lot to compare it to, but still. The man was as bad at sex as he was at skating. Even Yuri, as inexperienced as he was, could tell that much. 

The moment he heard the water turn on, Yuri was scrambling out of the sheets and pulling his clothes back on as fast as he could. His goal was to get out of there quickly and quietly and never see the Frenchman again if he could help it. He was quietly thankful that he would be ditching any formal activities after the gala tomorrow to spend time with Theia and Maria instead. If he never saw Séraphin de Cupidon again, it would be too soon. 

Once he was dressed again, Yuri glanced around to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind. He hadn't removed his medical bracelet through it all, and had happily pretended to misunderstand when Séraphin had asked about it. His hotel key and wallet were still tucked into the pocket he had put them into after he had brought the M&M’s. The candy was probably going to be forever ruined for him now. His eyes moved across the empty package as quickly as they could. Shirt. Lucky Sweater. Shoes and socks in his hands. 

What stroke of luck was it that he hadn’t been wearing the ring during the competition, and that he hadn’t thought to put it back on when he had returned to the room? If Séraphin had been curious about Yuri’s bracelet, the makeshift necklace definitely would have been called into question. Certain that he had everything, Yuri made his escape and slid back down the hall to his own room. Yuuko-chan was curled up asleep under her covers, but her eyes cracked open when Yuri opened the door. 

“You’re back,” she mumbled. “I was almost worried that I’d lost you again. Did you find something to eat?” 

Yuri paused. “No,” he said, shucking off his sweater. He didn’t just want a shower right now; he needed one. “No, the vending machine was out of order.” 

“Oh,” Yuuko-chan said. “I’m sorry,” 

“Don’t be,” Yuri said, getting started on undoing the buttons of his shirt. He was planning on burning it when he got home. “I decided I wasn’t hungry after all.” 

Yuuko-chan groaned something in reply and went back to sleep. Yuri slipped into the bathroom and got out of the rest of his clothes as fast as he could. They would all need to be burned too. The only article of clothing that was surviving this night was his lucky sweater, and that was only because Yuri couldn’t bear the idea of losing it. 

He turned on the shower and jumped in while it was still cold. He needed to scrub everything that had just happened to him out of his skin and hair and just…everywhere. He would have wiped his mind clean too, if he could afford it, but unfortunately, that wasn’t an option. Yuri scrubbed himself down with the hotel soap, thinking everything that had happened tonight through. He wished he had never decided to go to the stupid vending machine for something to eat in the first place. He wished he had decided to wait until later. 

Yuri leaned his forehead against the wall, let the water pound over his neck and shoulders and back and wash away the suds and the wrongness that was Séraphin de Cupidon. Yuri thought about the feel of Séraphin’s grubby fingers running across his body, the awkward feel of the man’s mouth. Everything about the experience had been…not right. It was like trying to shove two jigsaw pieces from completely different puzzles together; it just didn’t work. 

The barest of memories rose to the surface of Yuri’s mind as his headache intensified. Not even memories, really, just sensations. Short silky hair falling through his fingers. Long, gentle fingers tracing along his body. A softer mouth that had kissed him more perfectly than he had been kissed tonight. He strained his mind, reaching out for more, but there was nothing else. 

He wondered who all of this belonged to. How long ago it had happened. If whoever it was had loved him, and if he had loved them. Thinking about it made his heart ache painfully. It took him a minute to even his breathing and swallow the lump rising in his throat. Abruptly, Yuri shut off the water with a snap of his wrist and stepped out of the shower. He was ready for Skate Canada to be over so he could go back home to Hasetsu where no one was around to bother him.


	36. WYWSHA: Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, um...about this morning...
> 
> I am deeply sorry if peanut M&M's are ruined for you forever. They're ruined for me and my editor forever too. The only way I get past it is by laughing and sending her funny snapchats of them. 
> 
> This, however, should make it up to all of you, even if it runs on the shorter side. Thank you for not jumping ship over M&M's and bad pick-up lines. I don't deserve any of you.

A week after Skate Canada, Victor stretched in the warm-up room that had been designated for the skaters. How was it November already? He felt like just last week had been the end of May, and Yuri…and Yuri had walked out their apartment without so much of a backwards glance. The pain that stabbed through his heart every time Victor thought of Yuri was as fresh as if it had been last week, anyways. But he was getting better at hiding it. One could only stand so many pitying glances, after all. 

“Victor!” 

Victor turned around; it was Chris, looking as relaxed and cheerful as always. 

“Where were you last week?” 

Victor’s face was a mask of polite confusion, but his heart was pounding. He had a bad feeling that he knew where this was going. 

“Last week?” he asked. 

Chris nodded. “Yes. At Skate Canada. Yuri was there, but we didn’t talk much. To be honest...I think he might have been avoiding me. But I looked for you all weekend!” 

Victor’s mouth went dry. “We broke up,” he said hoarsely, “at the end of May, I…we….” 

Chris was immediately sympathetic. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know.” 

“Don’t be,” Victor said. He waved everything away with a hollow laugh. “How would you have known?” 

Chris nodded. “If there’s anything I can do…” he said, trailing off. 

Victor forced himself to smile. “It’s fine. Really. I think we were both just fooling ourselves anyways.” 

_But we weren’t,_ Victor thought to himself. _Yuri was…perfect. Everything was perfect, until it suddenly wasn’t._

Not for the first time, Victor wondered what had happened between them that had caused the scene in the living room. In retrospect, he could see how it had been a long time coming. Yuri had looked terrible for weeks, and Victor had felt terrible, but he hadn’t wanted to bother Yuri about it. It still seemed so impossible that Yuri was there, in Petersburg, living in the apartment that for so long had been Victor’s alone, sharing a bed that had always felt too empty, eating the food that Victor made for him in a kitchen that had always felt too big. He had told himself that Yuri was just adjusting, that Yuri was really bothered about anything, he’d tell Victor, that’d Yuri would open up. 

Clearly, Victor had been wrong. 

Chris opened his mouth again and Victor silently pleaded with the universe that whatever he was going to say would not be about Yuri. For once, the universe took Victor’s side. 

“It’s good to have you back,” Chris said after a moment’s hesitation. “Good luck.” 

After he had wandered off, Victor heard Yurio’s familiar stomp come up behind him. 

“What did he want?” Yurio asked. 

Victor paused, then went on to his next stretch. “Nothing,” he said casually. 

When he looked back up at what he thought had to be the angriest sixteen-year-old in the world, Yurio was eying Victor as if Yurio knew that ‘nothing’ meant ‘Yuri’ and he was trying to decide whether or not to push Victor about it. 

“We’re friends,” Victor added, “he just wanted to catch up.” 

“Right,” Yuri said. His tone demonstrated how little he believed Victor’s lie. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be mad at me?” Victor snapped. Yurio attitude over the last few months was starting to wear on him, not least because it had been so unrelenting and Victor had been able to do nothing to abate it. He’d even offered to choreograph a program for Yurio, but he had been shut down quickly. 

Yurio glared at him. “Good luck today, _old man,”_ he scoffed. “From what I’ve seen, you’re going to need it.” 

Yurio stalked off. Victor leaned into his next stretch. Old man. Well, that was new. Victor tried to decide if it was worse or better than being called asshole all the time. His thoughts suddenly turned to last year, standing in the rink at the Ice Castle with Yuri, dusting ice off his skates, and then Yuri’s finger, poking at the part in his hair. 

A pain stabbed through his heart again. Victor tried to push it away. Yuri was gone, and he was never coming back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's as I've said fam. 
> 
> Victor _is not_ in a good place right now.


	37. NMM: Chapter 37

## 

Part Four: No More Memories

In the month that Yuri had before the NHK Trophy, he practiced as much as he could. He worked with Minako and Yuuko-chan to improve the difficulty level of both his programs. He texted Maria and Theia regularly; they had set their wedding date for May, and they kept on asking for his opinion on things, or just venting to him about the frustrations and excitements that came with planning. Theia kept giving him music to listen to, and he’d assembled several playlists from the library of songs and artists he did and didn’t like. 

Early the next morning, he and Yuuko-chan would be leaving for Sapporo. And that would be it. Depending on how he did there, his Grand Prix run would either be completely over, or he would have made it. Most of the qualifiers had already been selected. All Yuri had to do was not epically fail, and he’d be in. The whole thing seemed so…easy. And maybe that’s what had him leaping out of his bedroom window again in the dead of night, hoping not to be disturbed. 

Although “security” had become more relaxed since Yuri had started skating again and had proven more regularly that he could take care of himself, he knew his family coordinated with Yuuko-chan and Minako to keep track of his every move, especially since he had ditched Yuuko-chan at Skate Canada. There were exactly three places in Hasetsu where Yuri could go alone without earning a lecture on being more careful: The Ice Castle, Minako’s Studio, and the Hot Springs. Any known deviation from the paths connecting those three places only caused him trouble. The question Yuri had asked himself repeatedly in the last month, then, was how to deviate without anyone finding out. 

The answer, as it had been before, was the window. Yuri took his athletic bag with him, as always, and slipped out. He hit the ground, but was not discovered. It was funny; after he had shown up at the Ice Castle the first time, no one had questioned how he got there, how he had left the house in the first place. The evening air was cold, but not freezing. Yuri left his jacket unzipped over his lucky sweater. 

He didn’t really think about where he was headed until his feet had stopped. The beach. He had come to the beach. He peeled off his coat without question and spread it across the sand like a blanket, then lay down. He used his athletic bag as a pillow. The blades of his skates pushed sharply against the back of his head for a moment, and then he shifted and the pressure was gone. This close to the city, there were no stars visible after dark. Yuri knew that they were there; he’d seen photos of them and he’d read about them online. Besides ice skating, Yuri thought the stars were the most wonderful thing he’d discovered since he’d lost his memories. Had the old Yuri known what the stars looked like in real life? Had he loved them as much as he loved the ice? 

Nearby, the waves crashed steadily against the beach. In and out and in and out. They were loud when they came in, quiet when they went out. Back and forth, on and on and on. 

Had he played on this beach as a child? Had he spent time with his friends and family here? 

A wave crashed onto the sand in one long, dull, roar. It receded with a small his. 

It reminded Yuri of the sound of the fire his father had made for them one night before it had gotten too cold to sit outside at night. A roar and a hiss. The only difference was, a fire only roared once, and it hissed when it went out. There were crackles in between those two events. But waves were the continuous cacophony of crash and hiss, crash and hiss. 

Yuri pulled out his phone and searched through his texts with Theia and Maria. There were, unfortunately, a lot of them. Every day his Gayrentals texted him ten words and phrases each. Theia’s were all common words and slang, things she thought would come up in everyday conversation. Maria, meanwhile, what teaching Yuri the subtle language of innuendo and flirting. Words and phrases that had double meanings, or meanings that couldn’t be discussed openly in polite society, but still may come up all the same. Later, they quizzed him on them, and on ones they had taught him before. Slowly but surely, his English skills were coming back. 

Other memories were coming along too; he had the feeling he would never remember everything from before the accident, but he remembered being a child in Hasetsu now. He remembered befriending Yuuko-chan and taking dance lessons from Minako. He had had a dog once too—Vicchan. The strange thing about all these memories, however, was that Yuri felt no real emotional attachment to them. They were things that had happened to someone else. It was sad to know that he had once had a dog that had subsequently died, but not as sad as it would have been if he had actually known the dog. 

He found the album he was looking for and clicked on it to start it playing. The song started with a few piano notes alone, and then they carried on, mixed with others, formed a melody. The picture the music made was richer for the combination of the notes, the rise and fall of the melody. Yuri was thinking of using the piece next year in his short program. For now, though, it contrasted beautifully with the sound of crashing waves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This section is going to have a lot of shorter chapters in it, but after the angst shimmity* storm of angst that was the first three sections, this one has a lot more fluff. So you get that trade-off. Parts Five and Six are going to have _lots_ of really long chapters, so buckle down for that. We're reaching the final stretch now, fam!
> 
> *I gave up swearing for Lent. As per the specifications of my editor, I am not allowed to speak, mouth or type any swear words. I want to die, but you can all have a giggle fest over my new, more colorful language.
> 
> Also, the song that Yuri listens to here is called "Dawn" from the _Pride and Prejudice_ soundtrack. You can listen to it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-vYY0aRH46I)


	38. NMM: Chapter 38

Yurio’s first impression of Sapporo was that it was smaller than he had expected. He was used to the larger St. Petersburg, with its hustling tourists and businessmen trying to push on to work and everyone rushing to live their separate lives. When he thought of Japan, what immediately flashed to his mind was small Hasetsu, with its ocean and silly little ice rink. When Yurio tried to picture a real Japanese city he expected something, well…something more impressive than Sapporo. 

But Yurio wasn’t here to be a tourist. He was here to win another gold medal. He’d taken gold over Victor at the Rostelecom Cup with a combination of Yurio’s own superior skill, his grandfather’s Pirozhki, and the fact that Victor’s short program score had been lower than usual. 

_Victor,_ Yurio thought, _would come here to skate_ and _be a tourist, but I know there are more important things. I can wander around the city later; first, I have to crush Katsudon._

And Yuri, speak of the devil, was right there. Open practice for the men’s singles was about to begin. Yakov had pretty much brought Yurio straight here from the airport. He wanted to make sure that Yurio was ready for this, that there was nothing that would throw Yurio off his game. Yurio had scoffed at the idea, but now… 

It was one thing to know that Yuri had lost all his memories when Yurio did not have to actively be around the older man, practicing in the same rink as him, watching him as he bent his head to listen to whatever it was Yuuko-chan was telling him. Now, Yurio felt his mind go blank. Would Yuri remember him when they saw each other? Would Yurio’s sudden presence bring back some of Yuri’s missing memories? 

“Yuri!” Yakov grumbled. 

Yurio looked over at his coach. 

“Did you hear anything that I just said to you?” 

Yurio opened him mouth to reply, but Yakov just shook his head. “I was worried about this. You need to put him out of your mind, Yuri. You need to focus on competing. Did I not tell you that you needed to be ready to be a worthy competitor when the two of you met on the ice again?” 

Yurio scowled. “I can beat him easily.” 

“Then prove it! Forget about him as he has no doubt forgotten about you! Yuuko tells me that Yuri is wholly focused on his performance at all times, not just during practices, not just during competitions! If you are to be a true match to him, you must show the same discipline! Now, get on the ice. I want to see your jumps.” 

Yurio did what he was told albeit with a scowl. It was weird, being on the same ice as Yuri again. Half a year already since St. Petersburg, but that had been different. That Yuri had struggled to even skate properly. This Yuri…he landed everything cleanly. It was like if he had been born to be on the ice. The transformation was eerie. It was a good thing that Victor wasn’t here, Yuri reflected. He had no idea how his friend would have reacted. 

All too soon, it was time to get off the ice again. 

“He’s good,” Yurio said to Yakov as they left the arena. 

Yakov didn’t reply. 

“Better than I had expected, all things considered.” Yurio continued. 

He remembered the first video that Yuuko-chan had sent him of Yuri’s skating after the accident. Since then, he knew that Yuri had been practicing a lot, so improvement was inevitable. Improvement that had been confirmed for Yurio when he had watched the livestream of Skate Canada on his computer a month ago, but still… 

“I thought I told you to focus on your own practice?” Yakov asked. 

“I was!” Yurio objected. 

“No, you were not, if you have so many thoughts on our friend’s skating!” 

Yurio seethed. He hated being called out by Yakov. “Victor’s not here, so you can stop speaking in code,” Yuri snapped. 

Yakov stopped. “No, Victor is not here, but I would almost think he was, given your attitude.” 

Yurio opened and closed his mouth several times. “W-what?” He demanded. 

“You need to focus, Yuri!” Yakov said again. “This is why I have not spoken with you about Yuri for months; you are too tied emotionally in his well-being. You say you think of him as a competitor, a rival even, but you treat him like a friend. Do you want to win gold, or no? You have the potential to be a better skater than Victor, but you need to get your mind off of Katsuki Yuri first!” 

Yurio opened his mouth to object, but decided against arguing with his coach and nodded instead. 

“Good,” Yakov said. “Now let us go back to the hotel. I want you well-rested before the short program tomorrow.”


	39. NMM: Chapter 39

The hotel this time was much farther away from the rink. The city had decided to showcase its downtown over the convenience of the competitors, but Yuri didn’t mind; there were more people to watch in the heart of the city. Their hotel room had a beautiful view of the big park the city was famous for, and after Yuri had showered, he stood by the window and watched people meander through it. 

“I think you have family that lives here,” Yuuko-chan said from behind it. “I feel like you, or someone else, mentioned that once.” 

“And everyone is coming tomorrow to watch me compete?” 

“Not everyone,” Yuuko-chan reminded him. “Your dad and mom decided to stay behind. Watch the inn. Watch the triplets. It was very generous of them.” 

“I don’t think my family really understands figure skating,” Yuri said with a wry smile. “But it will be nice to have Mari here,” he added quietly. 

“Mmm,” Yuuko-chan agreed. “And then they’re all going to head back the morning before the banquet.” 

Yuri turned around. Yuuko-chan quickly hid a knowing smile behind a cough. 

“What?” he asked. 

“Nothing,” she said, “We’re all just very excited for you.” 

Yuri eyed her carefully. “Alright…” 

“I do want to ask you to do one thing for me,” Yuuko-chan said. 

Yuri crossed his arms. He had a feeling he knew what was coming. 

“Don’t…don’t go anywhere on your own,” Yuuko-chan pleaded. “I know that all of our fussing wears on you after a while, but please, Yuri. This is a big city, and we’re right in the center of it. You’d be saving me a lot of grey hairs if you just…resisted the temptation.” 

Yuri considered this. “So I can’t go anywhere unless I have someone with me?” 

“Yes.” 

Yuri looked down at the busy street below. Yuuko-chan needn’t have asked; he wasn’t sure he wanted to brave the busy city on his own. But at the same time, she had given him a neat loop-hole; she had never specified who he had to go with or when he could go out or whether or not he had to tell her where he was going. 

“Fine,” he said. He would just have to befriend one of the other skaters later. Simple enough. 

Yuuko-chan looked relieved. 

Yuri glanced out the window, then a thought occurred to him. “Is there anyone I should know here?” he asked. 

Yuuko-chan made a strangled noise. Yuri turned to look at her with an alarmed expression. 

“Sorry,” she said. “A cough came out funny. There’s only one person this time. A boy named Yuri Plisetsky.” 

“How do we know each other?” Yuri asked. “Or, that is, how did we?” 

Yuuko-chan shrugged casually. “You two were at a few competitions together last year. The Rostelecom Cup. The Grand Prix Finals. Some others previously.” 

“Oh,” Yuri said. “Do we…know each other well? Do we get along?” 

She considered this. “I’m not really sure,” she said slowly. “I’ve only met Yurio a handful of times…he has a reputation for being an angry kid. We used to call him the Russian Punk.” 

Yuri’s mind took all of that in—shuddered at the idea of skating against someone who had earned such a nickname from he and Yuuko-chan—then snagged on one detail. 

“Yurio?” Yuri asked. 

Yuuko-chan looked like she had been caught doing something wrong. “It’s a name Mari and Minako and everyone else uses to distinguish the two of you. It gets confusing, sometimes, having two Yuri’s competing against each other.” 

That made a little more sense. 

“Which one was he today?” Yuri asked. “At practice?” 

Yuuko-chan raised her eyebrows. “You’re very curious today.” 

“I just want to know so I don’t look like an idiot if he tries to talk to me,” Yuri said with a scowl. 

“I think Yurio’s more likely to scream at you,” Yuuko-chan laughed. “But he was the little blond one.” 

Yuri blanched. “That kid? How old is he anyways? He looked so young!” 

_Young but still really, really good._ Yuri thought. _Crap. How am I supposed to compete against that?_

“You’ll be fine,” Yuuko-chan said, replying to the unspoken anxiety that Yuri was sure was written across his face. “Yurio’s intense, but…” she hesitated. “I know you don’t like hearing about these things, but at a time when it really mattered, you beat Yurio last year, and I would argue that you didn’t even skate your best. You’re skating is…fantastic now. Mind-blowing, actually, all things considered. You can beat him again.” 

Yuri smiled. “You really think so?” he asked. 

She smiled back. “I really do. Now come on, I’m starving. Let’s get something to eat.”


	40. NMM: Chapter 40

Yuri surprised himself at the competition the next day. He had drawn for the fourth spot and the other Yuri had pulled the fifth. 

_I can beat him,_ Yuri had reminded himself while he warmed up. _Yuuko-chan said that when it mattered the most last year, I beat him. I can do that again._

And indeed, when Yuri had skated out onto the ice for his short program, the crowd had reaffirmed this belief. He was Japan’s favored son, and he was met with a thunderous round of applause. He had expected it to be like Skate Canada, where it had been easy to pick out Theia and Maria’s voices when they cheered for him. But this reception… 

None of these people knew who he was now. None of them knew what he was capable of doing. Yuuko-chan had given him one last word of encouragement just before he had turned out the light last night. 

“The advantage is going to be all yours tomorrow, Yuri,” she had said. “As far as they’re concerned, you’re the hero of Japan. They’re on your side. You also don’t have to put up with the same jetlag that a lot of the other of the competitors are dealing with right now. And if it means anything to you, I think you’re a better and stronger skater than you’ve ever been. You can do this. I know it. We all do.” 

He had run his mind over that final phrase before the music had begun. It was like running his fingers across the familiar edge of his skates: “You’re a better and stronger skater than you’ve ever been. You can do this. I know it. We all do.” 

The music had started, and Yuri had drawn the crowd into his loss with his program, but he showed them everything he could do in spite of that loss. Yuuko-chan had looked ready to cry when he came off the ice. There were sad tears in her eyes, as there always were when Yuri practiced his programs, but he could see how excited she was too. 

His score this time easily broke the hundred-point mark. Yuri laughed with relief. He made the silent goal to himself to win here too. He was already on track to do so. 

He watched from the kiss-and-cry as the other Yuri, Angry-Yuri, the Russian Punk, the boy that Yuri had briefly allowed himself to be afraid of the night before, came onto the ice. 

“Do you know how to say ‘Good-Luck’ in Russian?” He asked, turning to Yuuko-chan quickly. 

Yuuko-chan shrugged. “I’m not sure, but…well, I’ve heard people call _'davai,’_ if that helps. Why do you ask?” 

Yuri shot to his feet. _“Davai,_ Yuri!” he shouted as loud as he could. He waved too. 

The boy looked over at Yuri, eyes wide with surprise for a moment, then scowled. Yuuko-chan stood up next to Yuri and screamed _‘davai’_ with him again. They both gave him a thumbs up. 

Yuuko-chan had asked Yuri if he wanted to stay and watch Yurio’s performance, but Yuri had declined; he wanted to stick to his policy of ignoring what the other skaters were doing. Even if he was in the lead, Yuri didn’t want to be thrown off by something so petty. He couldn’t change what the other skaters were doing. Therefore, it didn’t do him any good to dwell on them. 

By the end of the night, Yuri had kept his lead. Evidentially, he really was a better skater than Yuri Plisetsky when it mattered. 

_I wonder if I beat him at the Grand Prix Finals last season,_ Yuri wondered. _Is that what Yuuko-chan meant? I can’t imagine that she would define the Rostelecom Cup as ‘a time when it really mattered.’_

Maybe that was why Yurio had been surprised to hear Yuri cheering for him before he took to his ice. The thought boosted Yuri’s spirits. He went out to dinner with his family that night at a quiet place his parents knew about. Sure enough, they mentioned that they had relatives in the city, although they made no move to call them up or invite them to spend time with the family while they were in town for Yuri’s competition. Yuri was secretly glad of this; he was in a good mood, and he didn’t want to spoil it by interacting with people he was supposed to know. 

It was good, Yuri reflected when he and Yuuko-chan got back to the hotel that night, to spend time with his family and not have to deal with their pity, or over-protective attitudes. He had felt more at ease with everyone tonight than he had been in a long time; they had been too caught up in his victory and whether or not he could handle being in the lead to express any other and more common concerns about him and his well-being. 

There had been a moment, in the middle of dinner, when Yuri had been reminded of his evening with Maria and Theia in Mississauga. The conversations he had been engaged in on the two occasions were radically different, but the feeling had been the same. In the past month, he really had come to think of Maria and Theia as an extended sort of his family. He called Maria ‘Mama’ whenever she called him. Theia had requested the most casual way of saying “mom” Yuri could think of in Japanese. As such, he now referred to her fondly as ‘Okaa’. 

He wished the pair of them could be here with him now. True to his word, the three of them had watched Phantom of the Opera together after they found a good lunch place in the city. It had been interesting to go back home to Hasetsu and continue working on his Free Program after having seen the entire musical. While he had known some context before, watching the entire musical all the way through had helped. He could see why Theia loved it so much. 

After they had finished watching the musical, Theia and Maria had taken him around the city so they could window-shop. Theia surprised him by dragging him into a stationary shop and presenting him with a small leather-bound notebook. The letters ‘Etc.’ were stamped into the cover in gold, and beneath that, a pair of skates. On the first page, under another pair of skates, his name had been written in English, and then again in Japanese. 

“For your thoughts,” she had explained. “So you can write down what happens to you during the day, moments you want to remember, memories that come back to you, anything really.” 

“What does ‘Etc.’ mean?” he had asked. 

“Etcetera,” she had said with a smile. “In English, it’s used to…how to I explain it? Carry on a longer list without specifically listing everything. It’s what’s extra, but still important. Does that make sense?” 

Strangely, it had. Yuri kept the book with him all the time now. He pulled a pen out of his athletic bag as he settled down for bed and flipped open to the page he’d left off on. He marked the date and then wrote down a brief summary of his thoughts on everything that had happened that day—the joy of skating in an arena with such a supportive crowd, the thrill of being in first place, the peace that had settled over him when his family had treated him like a normal person again. 

The men’s free-skate was the last event tomorrow. The victory ceremony would follow directly afterwards, unlike it had at Skate Canada. Yuri’s heart thudded solidly in excitement. He was going to win this. He knew he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey fam! Sorry this chapter was so late! I was (I kid you not) out ice skating and thinking about stuff for the (short!) companion fic that this that I'm working on right now. I (should) be back to the regular schedule tomorrow. We'll see. I have homework and movies to watch with Muse (if you've never seen any of the Starkid Musicals, I highly recommend them all) and maybe more ice skating. I hope you all have a lovely weekend and I'll see you down below! :)


	41. NMM: Chapter 41

“Are you proud of him?” Yurio asked Yakov the next day. They were watching Mila’s free skate. She was doing well, but Yurio didn’t know if it wouldn’t be enough to keep her in the lead. She too was going against a very skilled Japanese skater. 

“Yuri,” Yakov warned. 

“I mean, you’re technically his coach. And you saw what he did yesterday. It’s hard to believe that four months ago, he had only just found out that he knew how to figure skate, even if it was poor, and even before that, well. We all saw what he was like in Petersburg.” 

“I’m trying to watch Mila. I coach her too, you know.” 

“I’ll pass him today,” Yuri grumbled. “He must have done it on purpose, yelling at me like that.” 

“It sounded like he was cheering you on.” 

“Exactly!” Yurio exclaimed. “Why else would he do that?” 

“Why wouldn’t he?” Yakov asked. “From what I recall, Katsuki Yuri had always been kind, respectful, modest. Always paid attention when I spoke to him, thanked me for my time and advice, and proceeded to do exactly as I told him. He treated the other skaters politely, even if he didn’t know them well, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard him speak ill of any of his competitors. He has a competitive spirit, but he loses, publicly, at least, with dignity.” 

Yurio gaped. “This is a dream come true for you, isn’t it?” 

“You should focus on your own skating.” 

“You don’t think I can beat him.” 

“I think he has prepared himself to be competitive. I’m not sure if you have.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yurio sputtered. 

“It is as I said yesterday; clearly, he is very focused. You? I’m not so certain.” 

“I’m focused on beating Yuri,” Yurio grumbled. 

“Yes,” Yakov agreed. “You are.” 

“So what’s the problem then?” 

“That you are not focused on winning. That you have given a name to your competitor in a way that suggests he is not only a competitor to you, but a friend.” Yakov stood up. “I am going to go meet Mila. Think about what I said. And remember to start warming up soon.” 

Yuri folded his arms over the rail in front of him and scowled. He was already pretty much guaranteed a place at the Grand Prix Finals. So it didn’t really matter then if Yuri beat him here or not; Yurio would just have to win the Grand Prix Finals again this year. And a last minute change earlier that spring meant that finals were being held in Petersburg too. Everything would be in Yurio’s favor. Besides all that, this is what he had wanted; he had wanted a Yuri he could really compete against. That’s why he’d enlisted Yakov to help coach Yuri from behind the scenes. Yurio should be happy that Yuri was skating this well. 

So why did it bother Yuri so much? 

“Hey, Yurio,” someone said as they settled down next to him. 

He glanced over. It was Yuuko-chan. Yurio went back to pouting. 

“Katsudon better be ready for me to crush him tonight,” he grumbled. 

Yuuko-chan shrugged. “Why don’t we just wait and see how that goes, hmm?” 

Yurio dug at the chipping paint on the rail with his fingernail. He supposed he hadn’t expected Yuri to be…to be, well, better than he, Yurio, Grand Prix Finals gold medalist and World Champion to be. It wasn’t fair. He’d done all of this, and now he wasn’t even going to get the gold at this stupid event. 

“I wanted to thank you,” Yuuko-chan said quietly. “I know you were never really fond of Yuri, but you’ve done so much for him this season, and…and I honestly don’t know if he’d have been able to come this far if it hadn’t been for you.” 

“It’s nothing,” Yurio said. “Really.” 

“But it’s not nothing, Yurio,” Yuuko-chan said. “Skating means the world to Yuri. You made sure that he got that world back.” 

“He went to the rink all on his own, didn’t he?” Yurio snapped. “Decided to compete on his own?” 

“But you’re the one who made sure he was actually a competitor,” Yuuko-chan argued. “If Yakov hadn’t helped me, Yuri wouldn’t be doing what he can right now.” 

“Hm.” 

Yuuko-chan threw her arms around Yurio in one last tight hug. “So thank you,” she said again. “I think you’re a kinder person than everyone thinks you are, and what you’ve done for Yuri proves it. I’m sure if he knew, well…maybe you’ll tell him someday, and you can see for yourself what he does.” 

_There’s no way in Hell I’m ever telling Katsudon about any of this._

Yuuko-chan let go and stood up. “I’ll be cheering for you, Yurio,” she said. “I know you’ll be great.” 

She started to walk away, but Yurio called out and she stopped. She looked back at him, puzzled, but pleasantly surprised that he hadn’t just let her leave. 

“Where is he?” Yurio asked. “I mean, he must be here somewhere, but I barely saw him yesterday…” 

Yuuko-chan’s face lit up with understanding. “He likes to warm up alone, so he can’t be distracted by what the other skaters are doing, or if any of them try to talk to him. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, but I don’t think he likes talking about the accident, and everything he’s lost.” 

“Oh,” Yurio said. Yakov kept telling Yurio about Yuri’s focus, but this… 

“Doesn’t he get nervous anymore?” Yurio asked. 

Yuuko-chan shrugged. “I think he’s more determined to do well and to not let everyone else bother him. If he’s nervous, he doesn’t show it nearly as much. You have to remember, Yurio; even though Yuri knows he’s competed before and that he’s probably one of the best skaters in the world, this may as well be his first season. He wants to show everyone what he can do…and to a certain extent, prove what he can do in spite of what he’s lost.” 

Yurio opened his mouth, but for once, he didn’t have any retorts planned. That attitude…that was something he had to admire. Yuri was determined to win, despite all the odds stacked against him, his memory loss, his essential inexperience in competition, the overall lack of preparation he’d had for this season. He nodded. Yuuko-chan walked away. 

Yakov had told Yurio that he needed to be a worthy competitor. Well, that’s exactly what Yurio was ready to do. If Yuri was going to bring everything he had to the table, then Yurio was going to meet him there, and then they’d see exactly who the better skater was.


	42. NMM: Chapter 42

Yuuko-chan came and retrieved Yuri when it was his turn again. He had found a quiet stretch of hallway where he could warm up without anyone bothering him. He had started off in the corner of the assigned room, but when people kept cheering or groaning at whatever skaters were doing on the TV set they had been provided, loud enough to be heard over the “pump-up champion playlist” Theia had sent him that morning, he had slipped off. Every now and then, people would come along, and Yuri would feel their eyes on him, but they left them along and he wasn’t making a fuss, so there wasn’t any trouble. When they stepped into the arena, the other skater was still going through his program. Yuri leaned his back against the barrier and switched from the playlist to the song Theia had arranged for him. 

It started off with a heavy thrum. In Yuri’s mind, he slid into the program. In the moment, he removed his skate guards one after the other and handed them to Yuuko-chan. 

The first verse started. Yuri began moving around the rink in his mind, reeling the crowd into his story. On the edge of the rink, Yuri kept his feet planted and leaned forward to stretch his arms. 

And that’s how it went on. Mentally, Yuri reviewed everything he had to do for this program, pictured step for step how it would go. In the meantime, he stretched and made last minute preparations, took off his warm-up jacket, got the blood flowing in his arms when the cold of the rink hit them. Yuuko-chan tapped his arm when it was time. 

“Ready?” she asked. 

Yuri nodded. They had made a lot of changes to the program in the last month. Secretly, Yuri wished they could have done more. Even though Minako said he had captured the emotion piece and Yuuko-chan thought all of his elements were nigh on perfect, Yuri felt like there was something missing. He hoped he’d have time to figure out what before the Finals. He wanted to win so terribly that his heart picked up every time he thought about it. 

He stepped onto the ice. He looked around the arena as he made his way to the center. All of these people…they supported him. He thought of the review he had just made of the program. It had been cut a little short, but he knew he would be able to do it now. In his mind, he had scored perfect points. Skating now seemed like the easiest thing in the world. Yuri pulled himself into position, and when the music began, he skated. He held the crowd, captivated, at the edge of their seats. When he was done, they exploded. 

OOO

Gold, Yuri reflected later, may just be his favorite color. He couldn’t help but keep running his fingers down the red ribbon, always stopping just short of where it was knotted about the golden disk that hung from it. This, his makeshift necklace with the ring, his lucky sweater, his skates and his athletic bag. Those were now his five most cherished possessions. His family took him out for dinner, afterwards. While his mother fussed over what they should do with the flowers and how she could get them back home—from what Yuri understood, she had plans to keep them forever—his father and Minako happily began toasting to him, to Yuuko-chan, to Yuri’s skates, to the ISU, to Japan… 

Yuri sat by with a smile. He was so giddy that he could hardly process what was going on. Everything seemed to shine brighter with some inner light that he had never seen before. He felt like if he laughed too much, he would float off the ground and never come down again. He declined the drinks everyone kept offering him; Yuri couldn’t remember ever getting drunk, but Maria had warned him that if he drank too much, he might not feel well the next day, or even forget what had happened that night. As Yuri wanted nothing to impair his overwhelming joy or block it from his memory, he took Theia’s advice and refrained from celebrating too much. There would be time for that later. 

Yuri didn’t eat much of the food that was set before him at dinner, and what he had eaten, he’d barely tasted. He was so caught up in the _moment,_ in everything that had just _happened._ But his sparse eating habits were not uncommon. Yuri had found that, since the accident, he was rarely hungry, and when he did eat large meals, he was full quickly. His family had commented on it frequently, especially tonight, but he never minded. Besides, tonight, his mouth had been too full of the honey-sweet taste of victory to eat anything else. 

_I did it._ He kept thinking to himself. _I actually_ won. 

Yuuko-chan stayed with Takeshi that night, so Yuri was left blissfully alone. Content that he had promised Yuuko-chan he wouldn’t wander off, his family left him that way. Yuri check the time in Detroit, then Facetimed Maria. 

The first two minutes of the call were just the two of them screaming. 

“Did you watch it?” He asked them, still chuckling when they were done. 

“That was,” Maria said, pausing to take a deep breath, “the most glorious performance I have ever seen. I cried. I more than just cried; I ugly cried. It was awful. But you were amazing. Mind-blowingly so. Teach me your ways, Ice Wizard.” 

Theia nodded. She was still crying a little, though Yuri couldn’t tell if it was from the program or from joy. “We got up early to watch the livestream. I wish we could have been there in person.” 

“You were there in my heart,” Yuri said, collapsing onto the bed. 

Maria clutched her heart and fell out of the frame. “The. Most. Perfect. Son.” He heard her say. He laughed again. 

“They were calling you ‘Japan’s Favorite Son’ by the end of it,” Theia said. “I’m so proud of you, Yuri. You’ve come so far.” 

“Well, I couldn’t have done it without you,” he said. “You’re the one who found the music for me, recommended what my theme for this year should be. Gave me the perfect playlist to keep me focused.” 

Maria pulled herself back into the frame. She looked at Theia. “Babe, if we ever have children, they’re never going to get out of his shadow. He’s just too good.” 

“Thanks Mama!” Yuri said. 

“I want my babies to be figure skating badasses just like you now,” Maria said, turning to look Yuri solidly in the eyes. “You’ve ruined me.” 

Yuri smiled. “How’s wedding planning going?” 

Now Theia sighed. “Well, we’re working on sending out the guest list this week. You’ll come, of course?” 

Yuri nodded. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

“Good,” Maria said. “I can’t imagine getting married without my baby boy there to see it.” 

He gave her a thumbs up. Theia continued. 

“We’ve picked out a sweet little church outside the city, so that’s taken care of. It’s been so hard finding one that’s…okay with us, but I’m happy now that it’s over.” 

Yuri nodded. Theia had been texting him about the problem of finding a church that allowed same-sex marriage for weeks. He had asked her why she didn’t just forgo it, but apparently both Theia and Maria had had their hearts set on getting married in a church since they were little girls. Maria was some sort of Christian, and 

Theia had a deep connection with her faith too. This was important to them. 

“Ok,” Yuri said. “So date, venue, guest list all done. Have you both gotten dresses?” 

Theia smiled a little. “I’m starting on shopping soon. I’ve been flipping through catalogues, and of course I’ve always had an idea of what I wanted my wedding dress to look like, so…” she shrugged. 

“I will not be wearing a dress,” Maria said, looking proud. “I’m wearing a suit. Beautiful, white. I’m going to look stunning.” 

Yuri laughed. Now that he thought about it, it was weird to think of Maria, bold, excitable, crazy Maria, in anything but a suit. Theia, in all her quiet grace belonged in a dress, but Maria, who wore flannel shirts and boy’s clothes and combat boots and threatened to fight the people who hurt Yuri or Theia or anyone else she cared about, belonged in a suit that allowed her that freedom. 

“My maids of honor will also be wearing suits,” Maria continued. “Or at least blazers.” 

There was a roguish look in her eyes and Yuri distantly wondered how he was going to factor into this wedding. “I haven’t decided who all is lining up behind me yet.” 

Theia frowned suddenly. “We’re not keeping you up, are we? Don’t you have anything to do tomorrow?” 

Yuri shrugged. “Just the banquet, and that’s in the evening. I don’t know if I’ll really do anything during the day because Yuuko-chan decided that she misses the triplets and is returning to Hasetsu early.” 

“Why don’t you look around the city?” Theia asked. 

“But I don’t have anyone to go with.” 

“You went to the art museum alone,” Maria pointed out. 

“I get the feeling a lot of people go to art museums alone. And I never intended too; I got bored waiting for the bus, popped inside, and it happened to be an art museum, so I stuck around.” 

“Actually,” Maria said, “art museums are great for dates. You can just stare at the person you’re with while they’re looking at art and when they ask why you just say, ‘I found my favorite masterpiece here and I can’t take my eyes off of it.’” 

Theia blushed furiously and Yuri got the feeling that Maria spoke from personal experience. He laughed. 

“That has to be one of the cheesiest lines ever.” 

“It is!” Theia exclaimed. “That’s why it’s was so good; you’re not expecting it to be said with such sincerity.” 

“What’s even better it when you follow it up with: ‘Now, I know we’re not supposed to touch the masterpieces in here, but someone has to put them on the wall, right? So where do you want to go?’” Maria added. 

She looked over at Theia, who had fallen out of the frame. 

“You don’t have to bury your head in your hands, Baby, you know I love you and Yuri doesn’t mind when we flaunt that.” Maria said. 

“Sometimes,” Theia said, pulling herself back into the frame, “I wonder how I got so lucky to have you.” 

Maria looked at her fiancé like if she was the purest, most wonderful thing in the world. She turned back to Yuri. 

“Now, Honey, you know Mama loves you and is very, very proud of you, but if Mama doesn’t do something about what this one just said, she’s going to regret it forever, and what she’s planning on isn’t something her baby boy needs to see, if you catch my drift.” 

Yuri did. Barely containing laughter, he gave them a thumbs up and nodded. 

“Good,” Maria replied, and then she hung up before Yuri could properly say goodbye. 

Now what to do? He knew he could probably get away with wandering into the city on his own, but he didn’t really want to. He was still riding the high of his victory, and that sort of joy needed to be shared. He couldn’t just go out alone right now. He thought distantly of hunting down Yuri Plisetsky and dragging the other boy along, but Yuri had a feeling that the trouble of tracking the Russian boy down would wear down his good mood before it had a chance to go anywhere. 

He rolled onto his back and stared up at the off-white ceiling. Would he ever have what Maria and Theia had? Someone who complimented him so perfectly that he couldn’t help but be head-over-heels in love with them? Yuri’s experience with Séraphin, or “Our Favorite Fuckable Frenchman”, as Maria had taken to calling him, had turned Yuri off to random hook-ups, but how else was he supposed to meet somebody? The memory rose to Yuri’s mind again, as it so often had, of the sensations of the Mystery Man. 

His short, silky hair. 

His long, gentle fingers. 

His perfectly soft lips. 

What had the Mystery Man been like? Had it been a one-time encounter, or had they been dating? Where was he now, and why hadn’t he been by Yuri’s side through this whole experience? What had even split them apart in the first place? 

Yuri didn’t realize he was crying until he reached up to rub his eyes and his hand came away wet with tears. The hardest thing about losing his memories wasn’t trying to stumble his way through conversations with people he was supposed to know, or grasping for words that wouldn’t float to the surface of his mind. No, the hardest thing about losing his memories, Yuri realized, was the fact that he also lost the things that people couldn’t, or wouldn’t tell him about. He lost the people he didn’t know to reach out to because he didn’t remember they had once been friends. He lost the experiences he’d had on his own when no one had been around to see them. He lost so many key components of what made him Yuri that he had to reassemble himself from what pieces he could find, and in doing so, some pieces inevitably were left behind. 

Good mood shattered, Yuri changed quickly for bed and shut off the light. He pulled back the comforter and climbed into bed, but didn’t take his glasses off right away. He had forgotten to close the curtain all the way, and he could see a little sliver of the city beyond through the window. Outside, life carried on. He couldn’t see this to be certain, but he knew. It was a city, that’s how life worked in cities. The room spun for a moment, even though he was lying down. Yuri took off his glasses. He closed his eyes. He went to sleep, and he was relieved when dreams found him quickly.


	43. NMM: Chapter 43

This had to be the lamest banquet that Yurio had ever been to. The man who had come in third kept on trying to engage Yurio in conversation, but one could only pretend they had just spotted someone they recognized, or fake a need to go to the bathroom so many times. Third place guy would not be moving onto the Finals. Therefore, he was not someone that evenly remotely piqued Yurio’s interest. 

Really, Yurio was only here because Yakov had made him. Because skaters should be able to conduct themselves well in a society venue. What a load of bullshit. Yuri had been attending these banquets for years, and he was no more knowledgeable about “proper behavior” than he had been when he started. Just so long as you didn’t throw up or fall asleep, anything was acceptable. 

Yurio was actually so bored that he wished that Katsudon was here to get drunk and start a dance-off again. That, at least, had a tendency to liven up the party. But the other Yuri had gone home to Hasetsu; Yurio had seen Yuuko-chan checking out this morning with her husband. He had wanted to talk to her, but Yurio wasn’t very close to Takeshi, and he seemed like the kind of person who would rub the fact that Yuri had won the gold medal in Yurio’s face. So he’d stayed away. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Yurio saw Mr. Third-Place start heading towards where Yurio was standing with Yakov and Mila. 

“I’ll see you later,” he grumbled, and ducked away before he could be tailed. 

“Yuri!” Mila objected, “Where are you going?” 

Yurio could feel Yakov’s eyes burning holes into his back, but he didn’t turn around. If that sweaty idiot tried to talk to him one more time… 

Yurio ducked through the door to the men’s bathroom. If he was lucky, Third-Place wouldn’t be desperate enough to follow him in here. Yurio slammed the door shut and closed his eyes as he leaned against it. He just wanted to go home to Petersburg where he could sleep and get ready for the Finals. 

“Are you okay?” 

Yurio froze. He knew that voice, there had even been a time in his life when he despised it. It had been months since the last time he heard it, but it was still familiar. Yurio opened his eyes. Sitting on the counter with the sinks was Yuri. The other Yuri. 

At a quick glance, there was nothing different about him. Same black hair and big brown eyes, same nervous and puzzled expression. But at Yurio stared longer, he noticed little changes. Yuri no longer wore the blue half-frames that had framed his face for so long, but a more fashionable black set. He had two small scars around his right eye that hadn't been there the last time Yurio had seen him too. Even Yuri’s hair was different somehow. His bangs still swept across his forehead, but his hair had been cut a little shorter on the sides, and it stuck up a little in the back, as if Yuri was constantly knotting his fingers through it. He was skinnier too, Yurio realized, which was interesting for someone who was supposed to gain weight easily. All in all, Yuri looked…older, and it was actually kind of frightening. 

“Third place won’t leave me alone,” Yurio said. He didn’t grumble or scowl. He just said it, because Yuri had asked. _Yuri._

Yuri smiled wryly. “No one will leave me alone either.” 

It occurred to Yurio then that he might not be the only one hiding in the bathroom. Without thinking about it, he smiled. Yuri had been hiding in a bathroom the first time the two of them had met too. Yurio had popped in to avoid everyone freaking out over Victor and he’d heard the older boy crying. He’d been so upset. What kind of man took defeat like that? Sure, coming in last was humiliating and not something Yurio had ever done, but Yuri was still one of the top six skaters in the world. He had been at the finals for a reason. 

“Do you want to sit?” Yuri asked, gesturing to the sink counter besides him. 

Numbly, Yurio moved forward. He jumped up on the counter and sat next to Yuri. His feet couldn’t reach the ground. His legs started swinging on their own accord. 

“You’re…Yuri, right?” Yuri asked. “Yuri Plisetsky? 

“You can call me Yurio,” Yurio replied dully. “If it’s easier.” 

So Yuri didn’t recognize him. Yurio knew he shouldn’t be surprised, but the ache that went through his heart hurt more than he had expected. He had thought, somehow, that Yuri would see him and just… _remember._

Yuri was staring at him. Yurio turned his head and met the other man’s big brown eyes. 

“Have we met before?” Yuri asked. 

Yurio opened his mouth, then closed it again. He looked back down at his swinging feet. 

Yuri set aside his phone. It made a dull clicking sound when it made contact with the surface of the counter. 

“I’m sorry if that’s a weird question,” Yuri said. “It’s just…” 

He reached back and scratched the back of his head. His hair floofed up a little more. 

“I had an accident in the beginning of the season,” Yuri said quietly. “I…I lost a lot of my memories. I count myself lucky that I can still skate. But I’m still missing a lot, and I know we competed against each other last year, my coach told me we did, but I don’t remember it. I’m sorry.” 

“Why do you keep apologizing?” Yurio snapped. 

Yuri was clearly taken aback by this. “I don’t know.” 

God, he sounded completely helpless. This was almost worse than the GP Finals two years ago. Yurio looked back at his rival. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked. He nodded his head towards the door. “Leave the banquet. I can’t imagine it’s easy, having a bunch of people ask you questions you don’t know the answer too, trying to decide if you know them or not, regardless of whether or not you want too.” 

Yuri blinked, and then his face relaxed. He smiled and gave a slight nod. 

“Leaving sounds like the best idea in the world.” 

“Meet me in the lobby in ten minutes then,” Yurio said, jumping off the counter. “I don’t want to have to go out into the city in formal attire, and I can’t imagine that you do either.” 

Yuri picked his phone up from where he had left it. “Okay. And…Yurio—” 

Yurio paused at the door and looked back questioningly. 

“Thank you,” Yuri said. 

Again, despite himself, Yurio felt himself start to smile. Yuri’s kindness was…disarming. Yurio didn’t know how to react to it. He changed his smile into a scowl before Yuri could notice. 

“Well, it’s not like we could both hide in here,” he grumbled. “That would defeat the purpose of hiding.” 

Once again, Yuri surprised Yurio. He laughed, the first true laugh Yurio had ever heard him make. Not a nervous chuckle, not a self-depreciating snort, a real, rich laugh. At a joke that Yurio had made. 

“Yeah, I supposed it would,” Yuri said. “I’ll see you in a few.” 

Yurio slipped out of the bathroom, scowling even though he felt like smiling. It felt strange, but he was actually excited to spend time alone with a Yuri who didn’t remember any of their history. It was almost, dare he think it, relieving. Over the past season, Yurio had come to foster an unspoken respect for Yuri. Even if he wasn’t the most naturally gifted skater, he worked hard to become better. He was talented because he practiced constantly and he was determined to be the best skater he could. Yurio had been so angry when Yuri had wanted to retire, and now…now they were going to hit the streets of Sapporo together after Yuri’s first victory since the accident. 

_Not just since the accident._ Yurio realized. _Ever. Yuri never did win gold in a real completion before, did he? He always got too nervous to do well. Something always went wrong._

Yurio remembered, again, the finals two years ago. Slumping in the stands waiting to leave and watching Yuri skate. His jumps had needed work, but his step sequences had been the best Yurio had ever seen—better than his or Victor’s, even. He’d wished to see Yuri Katsuki skate perfectly, and these last two nights, he had, with a gold medal as the result. Yurio wondered if he would ever get to see Yuri skate like that again. He wondered if it would yield the same result.


	44. NMM: Chapter 44

Ten minutes later, Yuri met Yurio in the hotel lobby. He hadn’t really changed because he had been running short on time—he’d stayed in the bathroom a while longer to finish the text to Yuuko-chan saying that yes, he was fine, the banquet was fine, and that he knew all of the details for the flight back home tomorrow. When Yuri had gone back to his room, he’d thrown on his lucky sweater and switched into jeans and trainers, but he’d kept on his dress shirt and tie. He’d pulled his coat, hat and gloves on too, as it was below freezing outside, and then grabbed his athletic bag before he’d left the room. It was stupid, but he hated the idea of venturing into a strange city without it. The familiar weight helped to ground him. 

Yurio unfolded elegantly from the armchair he’d been slouched in when he was Yuri. The Russian boy was clutching a brown paper bag in his hands and he shoved it at Yuri when Yuri was close enough. Confused, Yuri took the bag and peered inside. 

“What are these?” he asked. 

“Katsudon Pirozhki,” Yurio grumbled. “My grandfather made them for me for good luck. They’re better when they’re fresh, but at least I was able to heat them up. Try one,” he said as they started towards the door. 

Yuri fished a pirozhki out of the bag, then handed it back to Yurio, who took one too. Together, they stepped out into the cold winter night. Yuri took an uncertain bite out of the roll. 

“There’s pork and rice in here!” he said with surprise. 

Yurio scowled at him. “Of course there is, idiot; it’s a katsudon pirozhki.” 

Yuri blinked. “What?” 

“Katsudon. Isn’t that your favorite food?” 

Yuri blinked. “Oh! No, I don’t think I’ve ever had any. My mother offered it to me a lot, after the accident, but just looking at that much food always made me feel sick. It still does, actually,” Yuri added after a moment’s thought. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Yuri could see Yurio gaping at him. 

“What?” he asked. 

“You’re just…different, is all,” Yurio said. “It’s disorienting.” 

Yuri shrugged. “Imagine what it feels like to live in a world where nothing is familiar, then.” 

He was surprised at how bitter his own voice sounded. 

“Seems scary,” Yurio whispered after a minute. He sounded like he was in a church. 

“It is,” Yuri confessed. 

They were quiet for a long time after that. Walking down the street together, but not talking. Their silence was broken suddenly when Yuri’s stomach growled; he gaped at in surprised. A second later, Yurio’s stomach issued a similar complaint. 

“I didn’t really eat at the banquet,” Yuri said bashfully. “I wasn’t feeling very hungry, and I was mostly trying to talk to people without, well, without sounding like an idiot.” 

“Why would you have sounded like an idiot?” Yurio asked. 

Yuri laughed nervously. He scratched at the back of his head again. “Because I don’t remember anything?” 

“Don’t people know?” 

Yuri fell quiet for a moment. He didn’t know how to explain how he felt to a stranger. It was hard enough, after all, to open up to people he knew. 

“I don’t like having to tell them,” he said softly. “I got tired of everyone’s pity a long time ago. So unless they _really_ pay attention to interviews and stuff...no.” 

“Oh,” Yurio said. 

Yurio’s stomach growled again. “I didn’t really eat either,” he said. “I was too busy trying to avoid third-place.” 

“Do you want to go somewhere?” Yuri asked. “We could get dinner.” 

He watched as Yurio hesitated, then smiled. “Alright. But I get to pick what we’re having.” 

Yuri shrugged. It wasn’t as if he had any ideas of where to go. “Sure,” 

“Great,” Yurio said. “I want katsudon. I hear it’s the thing to eat after competitions or winning something, so what better time to go now?” 

Yuri blinked. Surprisingly, what Yurio was saying was true. People came to the hot spring’s restaurant all the time for his mother’s Katsudon for precisely that reason. “How do you know that?” he asked. 

“Someone who really like katsudon told me once. That’s why my grandfather bakes it into pirozhki for me; they’re my two favorite foods.” 

“That’s nice of him,” Yuri said. They started walking again. 

“I think he may be my favorite person in the world. He supported my skating from the very start, taking me to practices and everything starting from when I was little. I was upset when I had to move to Petersburg, but he always comes when I have a competition in Moscow.” 

“Sounds like my two best friends,” Yuri replied. “They like to think of themselves as my lesbian fairy godmothers. I call them my Gayrentals.” 

“Why?” 

“Because they’re gay and they’re a version of my parental unit. That’s how Maria explains it, anyways. I met them when I was Skate Canada. I wish they could be here now.” 

Yurio’s brow furrowed. “So you met two strangers—” 

“They’re weren’t strangers,” Yuri objected. “Not really. Theia, that’s the other girl’s name, went to school with me in Detroit, apparently. I don’t really remember any of that. She’s a composer, and a musician of some sort. She wrote and adapted my two pieces for the competitions this year. She’s the quieter of the two, more contained. Maria’s all over the place sometimes, but that’s okay. She makes me laugh.” 

“Sounds like you really love them, even if you don’t know them well.” 

uri flashed a smile at Yurio. “I do know them well, and I do love them. They’re my only two _real friends,_ Yurio, the only people who don’t treat me like a child. I spend most of my time outside of practice talking to them.” 

“I’m confused.” 

“Why?” 

“Don’t you friends in Hasetsu? Yuuko-chan?” 

Yuri shrugged. “Ever since my accident, everyone acts like they’re afraid to leave me to my own devices. I think sometimes they’re afraid that if they do, another accident will happen.” 

He had tried to stay casual, but his voice was bitter again. 

“That sucks.” 

“Yeah, it does,” Yuri replied. “It’s suffocating sometimes. I pretty much locked myself in my room for a month this summer because of it.” 

“What changed?” 

“I snuck out one night because I was tired of being cooped up in the house and I didn’t want to be chaperoned when I went out. Went for a walk without really thinking about where I was going and ended up at the ice rink. The rest is history.” 

“Huh,” Yurio said in the distinct way that said he found the story interesting. He was staring at Yuri again. Yuri scratched at the back of his head awkwardly. Was he supposed to say something now? Was there another thing he was forgetting? 

“I have family who lives here,” Yuri said off-handedly. He didn’t know how else to fill the silence that came with Yurio’s careful consideration of him. His stomach growled again. Hadn’t they been planning on getting dinner? 

“Oh,” Yurio said. “So do you know your way around here then?” 

Yui let out a short, sharp laugh. “Oh, hell no,” he replied with a smile. “Amnesiac, remember?” 

Yurio blinked, and then he laughed too. “That has to be the worst joke I’ve ever heard.” 

Yurii’s brow furrowed. “What?” 

"’Amnesiac, remember?’” Yurio replied. He was still laughing. 

Once Yuri processed the joke, he started laughing too. Passersby stared at the pair of them, but Yuri didn’t care. Yurio—the Russian Punk, the kid who looked like he was ready to fight the world—was laughing at a terrible and unintentional joke. He didn’t treat Yuri like if he was someone to be pitied or looked after. He didn’t awkwardly tiptoe around the reality of Yuri’s accident. He treated Yuri like…like Maria treated Yuri. Like if he was a normal person who happened to once suffer the misfortune of losing his memory, but was mostly fine now. 

“Thank you,” he told Yurio when they had stopped. 

Yurio looked at him in confusion. “For what?” 

Yurio’s stomach growled again and Yuri chuckled at the sound. “Nothing. Now come on. We were going to get dinner.”


	45. NMM: Chapter 45

The two of them ate katsudon together at a little restaurant that Yurio looked up on his phone. To Yuri’s surprise, he was able to finish it all off, although he was feeling a little more stuffed than usual by the end. Yurio insisted on paying, and when he saw the determined look in the sixteen-year-old’s eyes, Yuri let him. 

“It’s your birthday in a few days, isn’t it?” Yurio demanded. “This can be your birthday present.” 

“Thank you,” Yuri said when they were back outside. There was a park across the street, the same one that Yuri had been watching through his hotel window, though a different part of it. They crossed together and started walking through. 

“Why do you keep saying that?” Yurio asked. “I didn’t really do anything. I just covered dinner. It was a present.” 

“Well, when’s your birthday?” Yuri asked. 

Yurio scowled. “March.” 

“Okay, I’ll just have to repay you then.” 

Yurio’s face said that he thought that this would be distinctly impossible, but his eyes were pleased. 

They walked for a long time in companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. They reached the end of the park; Yuri hadn’t realized how far they had walked. Above them, a metal grid work tower rose. It was kind of ugly, but it was lit up, and a fair amount of people stood around its base. A small ice rink had been set up between the rest of the park and the tower. The two of them leaned against the barrier for the rink and watched the skaters. 

“You’re not an idiot.” Yurio said quietly. 

“What?” 

“Earlier. You said you didn’t like talking to people because you didn’t like sounding like an idiot, but you’re not one. You never were. You have more sense than a lot of skaters I know, J.J., for example.” 

“Who?” Yuri asked. Yuiro blinked at him, and then understanding spread across his features. Yuri looked back at the ice. He felt sick, all of a sudden. 

“I’m sorry,” he said automatically. “That was a stupid question.” 

“No it wasn’t!” Yurio shouted. “It was a reasonable question. You don’t remember who he is and I shouldn’t expect you to. If anyone’s stupid, it’s me.” 

“I don’t want your pity.” Yuri ground out. 

“You’re not getting it.” Yurio said. “I know—” 

He stopped himself, started again. Yuri stared at the ground. It was slowly starting to tilt away from Yurio. 

“You’re strong. You’re determined. You’re…a phenomenal skater.” Yurio said. He said the last part reluctantly, but also as though he were surprised by the truth of the statement. “You don’t need pity, and you don’t need to apologize all the time to people who you think to pity you. It’s not your fault what happened to you. It’s just something that happened.” 

The world was really tilting now. Yuri tried his best to keep his grip on the wall. 

“Now, you can continue to…to stumble through your life like you’re some sort of novice skater on ice, or you can own up to your stumbles and learn to work through them. You’re only as stupid as you allow to be. Don’t make anyone ever make you feel lesser for not knowing something. It doesn’t make you an idiot when that happens; it makes them one.” 

“Yurio,” Yuri said. He was slipping. He could feel it. He wouldn’t be able to keep his footing much longer. He was practically clinging to the barrier and it wasn’t doing him any good. 

“I’m not explaining myself well,” the boy grumbled. “Look—” 

Yuri started falling. “Yurio!” 

Yurio looked up at the alarm in Yuri’s voice. The ground was rising to meet Yuri’s face and he was trying to grab back onto the wall— 

Yurio grabbed the sleeve of Yuri’s coat. He pulled Yuri back to his feet. He placed a hand on Yuri’s back, grounding him. They stayed like that, Yuri clutching the barrier with a white-knuckled grip, breathing heavily as the world went tilt a whirl on him, Yurio one hand on Yuri’s back, the other on Yuri’s shoulder, keeping Yuri upright even as Yuri swayed. 

When it was over, Yuri nodded. “I’m alright,” he said hoarsely. Yurio let him go. 

“Thank you,” Yuri added. “It’s been awhile since that’s happened. I’m—” 

“Don’t you dare say it.” Yurio hissed. 

Yuri closed his mouth. He smiled, and then gave a small nod. Yurio looked pleased. 

“Good.” Yurio said. “And you’re welcome,” he added quietly. 

They both turned back to the rink. Yuri watched the skaters do one lap, then another. Music was playing out of speakers rigged from the tower. 

“Let’s go ice skating,” he said. 

Yurio gaped at him. “What?” 

Yuri jerked his chin at the rink. “Let’s go ice skating.” 

“Now?” Yurio asked. “You’re kidding. Besides, I don’t have skates with me.” 

Yuri tugged at the strap of his athletic bag. He’d almost forgotten he was wearing it. “I do,” he said. His eyes landed on a shed across the way and quickly deciphered the writing on the sign hanging above it. 

“And it looks like you can rent some over there. Let’s go ice skating,” he insisted again. 

“I’m not wearing rental skates,” Yurio said. 

Yuri looked at Yurio. Yurio glared back. They had a silent battle of wills. 

“You almost just wiped out and you were standing still,” Yurio said weakly. A last line of defense. 

“My balance is better when I’m skating,” Yuri said lightly. “No lie. And I feel fine now.” 

He took his hands off the barrier and spread them wide. “Not falling over or swaying or anything.” 

Secretly, Yuri was relieved to find that his statement was true, but he wasn’t about to let Yurio know how uncertain he felt about his footing sometimes. Yurio glared at the shack. 

“I hate wearing other people’s skates,” he grumbled. 

“It’s just one night,” Yuri said, “and it’ll be fun. I promise.” 

Yurio cocked an eyebrow, his expression clearly stating that he found this doubtful. 

“When was the last time you didn’t just skate for practice of for a competition?” Yuri asked him. “When was the last time you skated just for the pure joy of it?” 

Yurio opened up his mouth the argue, then closed it. “Fine,” he said at last. “But you owe me!” 

Yuri laughed. There was a bench around the corner. “Deal,” he said as he walked towards it. 

Yuri watched Yurio rent a pair of skates while he laced up his. A moment later, Yurio joined him on the bench. Yuri watched the skaters while Yurio laced up his skates. When he was done, the two of them walked onto the ice together. They went around a few times in silence. Yuri closed his eyes and listened to the hiss if the ice against the blades of his skates. He had asked Yurio when the last time he’d skated for the pure joy of it, but Yuri had been abandoning that aspect of his skating for months now too. He’d been so focused on getting to the Grand Prix Finals, he hadn’t thought about why he had loved skating enough to have that dream in a while. 

The ice urged Yuri to jump and he did. He opened his eyes when he landed. Yurio was staring at him. 

“What?” Yuri asked. 

Yurio shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. “I just…I remember teaching you how to do that.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah. You had me do it a million times. I even think you filmed it. And now you can do it like it’s nothing.” 

Yuri looked down at his skates. “Oh,” he said. 

Yuri could have sworn Yurio held his breath as he waited to see if Yuri would apologize for not knowing. But Yurio had told him to stop apologizing. 

“Thank you for teaching me,” he said instead. 

Yuri shrugged. “It was nothing.” 

A new song started—the music ran up several scales before it dropped into a steady beat. Yuri knew this song; Theia had sent it to him on something he called the Victory playlist. “History Maker,” it was called. 

“Yurio!” Yuri skated. “Skate with me!” 

The Russian’s eyes went wide. “What?” 

But Yuri had already grabbed Yurio hands and was pulling him along. He didn’t think he had ever skated with anyone before. He was surprised at how easy it was. The music pumped through Yuri’s veins. 

“Come on, Yurio!” he laughed. 

And Yurio gave in. They were skating one behind the other, then letting go each other to jump or spin, then coming back together again. After a while, Yurio got a handle on the chorus and the two of them sang it together whenever it came up. By the end, they were belting it out at the top of their lungs. When the song ended, they fell back into skating besides each other. They were both laughing still. 

“That was fun.” Yuri said. 

“I’m not becoming your pair skating partner, if that’s what you want,” Yurio grumbled. 

Yuri threw an arm around Yurio’s shoulders. He thought it was a fair testament to how much his balance had improved since that summer that he was able to keep skating and not fall over. “Yurio, you mean a lot to me, but you won’t get me out of the singles pool that easily.” 

Yurio chuckled, then smacked Yuri’s arm away. “If you tell anyone about this at all—” 

“I won’t, if it will make you happy.” 

“Good.” 

Music was still playing. Yuri moved his arms in time with it a little as they went did another laugh. 

“We should have a skate-off,” he said. 

Yurio’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Was this whole weekend not a skate-off?” 

Yuri shrugged. “Sure, but that was something we had to do. This is something we’d do for the fun of it.” 

Yurio stared at him. Yuri did something jazzy with his hands as the song ended. 

“Come on, Yurio,” he said. “What else are you going to do?” 

The ice told spun Yuri around. He went with it. When he was back to normal, Yurio was glaring at him. 

“You’re not winning,” he said. 

“You’re going to have to do something then if you want to top me then.” 

Yurio’s eyes narrowed. He pushed past Yuri. Yuri watched him get a feel for the music. Then Yurio threw himself into a jump. He spun through the air for what felt like forever. He must have liked whatever expression was on Yuri’s face when he landed, because he grinned. 

“Come on, Katsudon!” he shouted. “Show me what you got! This is a skate-off, isn’t?” 

Yuri laughed. He pushed off his skates. The ice threw him up the air, and then he was flying. It was the most wonderful thing in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **How this scene went down as I was writing it:**
> 
> Me: Alright, so around the rink where the NHK Trophy is supposed to take place is a giant park. Maybe you two can walk through it.  
> Yuri: Is there an ice rink?  
> Me: I don't know?? Why??  
> Yuri: I want to go ice skating.  
> Me: You literally just won on an ice skating competition.  
> Yuri: Yeah, but I want to go ice skating with Yuri and do a fun little thing to that song you've been listening to from the YoI soundtrack to get an idea for how excited I am.  
> Me:...History Maker? You want to skate with Yurio in a random park on a random ice rink to _History Maker_???  
>  Yuri....That would be correct.  
> Me: *does some research*   
> Me: Okay so there's no rink in that park.  
> Yuri: Find a park that has a rink and conveniently locate us near it so we can do this.  
> Me:  
> Yuri:  
> Me: You are really determined to do this, aren't you?  
> Yuri: Extremely. 
> 
> **Later**
> 
> Me: *Writing the scene where Yuri asks Yurio to skate with him*  
> Yuri: When was the last time you didn’t just skate for practice of for a competition? When was the last time you skated just for the pure joy of it?  
> Me:  
>   
> *A Whole New World starts playing in the back of my head*
> 
> So yes, the park they end up in is real and is called Odori Park. I'm actually only 90% certain that the rink they skate on is there in November, but Yuri wanted to go skating, so oh well. I hope you guys have been enjoying this fluff section because we're starting the Grand Prix Finals soon and...  
> Wow. Just...Muse cried. It's an emotional roller coaster.


	46. NMM: Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoo fam you're getting this one early tonight because I'm getting sick and might turn in early and I don't want to forget. 
> 
> Also, Muse highly recommends that you look up what the Russian in the chapter means because it's funny as hell.

It was late when Yuri and Yurio finally decided to call it a night. There was no clear winner to the battle. Somewhere in there, they’d stopped having one and just started having fun, skating because it was a sport they both loved. Yuri walked back over to the rental shack with Yurio. The attendant grinned at them. 

“I was watching you two,” she said. “You were great! I took lots of pictures.” 

She pulled out her phone and showed them to Yuri and Yurio. Yurio looked mortified. Yuri just laughed. 

“Do you want me to send them to you?” she asked. 

“That would be _excellent,_ ” Yuri said. He pulled out his phone and gave the girl his information. She sent him the photos and he gave her a thumbs up as they came in. 

“Thank you,” he told her. 

She smiled. “My pleasure.” 

When Yurio had pulled his boots back on, they walked back through the park together. It was made up of several different sections. Each were about the same size, but were distinguished in their own way with different landscaping and monuments. The park was fairly empty and Yuri and Yurio walked mostly alone. Every now and then, someone would come along, but passersby were rare. 

“I wonder how Ubiytsa is doing,” Yurio wondered aloud at one point. 

Yuri looked at him questioningly. “Who?” he asked. 

“Ubiytsa.” Yurio said again. “My cat. I had to leave her with…my friend while I was here, and he’s not really a cat person.” Yurio frowned. “He has a poodle. I hope that thing isn’t terrifying Ubiytsa. She _will_ scratch back.” 

Yuri laughed. “I used to have a poodle.” 

“What happened to him?” 

“He died, I think,” Yuri said. “I don’t know. I just remember getting him when I was little. Vicchan, I think his name was. It doesn’t really matter.” 

“Didn’t you care about him?” Yurio demanded. 

“I don’t remember him, really.” Yuri said calmly. “He belonged to a version of me that I no longer remember. It’s like knowing someone else’s dog died; it’s sad, but it’s not a personal tragedy.” 

“Oh,” Yurio said. 

“Mmm,” Yuri agreed. “Sometimes I wish I could have everything back, all my memories, my old life, all of it, and but mostly I wish I could stop being…” he held his hands out in front of him like if he was squeezing a ball. “I wish people could separate who I used to be from who I am. We’re not the same person. Not really. We don’t have very much in common, I think, besides skating.” 

“That’s what your free program is about,” Yurio said suddenly. He stopped and stared at Yuri. 

Yuri glanced over at him and stopped too. 

“Yes,” he said simply. 

“If it was me, I wouldn’t want to share that with people. Losing everything like that,” Yurio said. He considered this for a moment. “It’s surprising.” 

Yuri shrugged. He scratched the back of his head. He felt self-conscious, hearing Yuri analyze what he was trying to say when he skated. 

“My friend, the one with the poodle, thinks that surprising people the only way to be a good skater,” Yurio said. “Doing something like that—drawing people into your own conflict—I think that would impress him. He’d probably think it was genius.” 

“Good to know?” Yuri asked. 

Yurio shook himself out of whatever path his thoughts had been wandering down. “I’m going to beat you at the Finals.” 

Yuri chuckled. 

“You don’t believe me?” Yurio demanded. 

They started walking again. 

“I believe you’ll do your best to try,” Yuri said. “But you have to understand, Yurio: I’ve lost everything, and people keep associating me with a person who I just told you I no longer am. I’m not going to let myself come this far just to be snubbed the chance to finally make my mark on the world, to prove to everyone that I’m a new person and show them all that I can do, at last minute. I refuse.” 

Yurio scoffed. “You’re going to have to up your game then.” 

“I will,” Yuri said calmly. 

They stared unblinkingly at each other for a few minutes. 

“It’s going to be you and me, again, isn’t it? At the end?” Yurio asked 

“What?” Yuri replied. 

“The Finals last year—don’t you know what happened?” 

“No,” Yuri said. His voice was even, but there was an edge to it. Hadn’t he explained to Yurio repeatedly tonight that he had lost all his memories? 

“I know you don’t remember,” Yurio said. “But you never looked it up?” 

Yuri shook his head. “I didn’t want to. I wanted this season to be about who I am now, without the expectations of whoever I used to be. I didn’t want to be limited by the knowledge of what I did or didn’t ‘used to do’ or who I had or hadn’t beat.” 

“Because you can only focus on how you skate now,” Yurio said. His voice was hollow, as if he was echoing something he had heard before. He blinked and refocused on Yuri. “You weren’t at all curious?” 

“Nope.” Yuri said lightly. “And don’t tell me anything now; I still don’t want to know. If I remember later, then I’ll remember later, but until then…” 

They had stopped again. Their breaths came out in puffs of steam. Yuri had forgotten how cold it was supposed to be outside. He didn’t feel cold, standing here with Yurio in a mostly empty park. 

“Well, it was you and me, pretty much, at the end of last year. There were some other good people, but I think we both knew that at the end it was going to be one of us on the top podium in gold.” Yurio said slowly. “We both set new world records trying—me in the short program, you in your free program. I think it’s going to be like again this year.” 

Yuri smiled. “Well then, I’ll be honored to compete with you for the gold again this year, Yurio Plisetsky. I can’t think of anyone better to skate against.” 

He held out his hand. Yurio took it. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to know how it ended last year?” Yurio asked. 

“I’m sure,” Yuri said. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. That was then. This is now.” 

They shook and started off again. Yurio dug his phone out of his pocket. They seemed to have reached some sort of agreement: official business out of the way, they could now go back to their comradery. 

“Wanna see pictures of my cat?” Yurio asked. His finger was already poised to open up the album. Yuri couldn’t read the title; it was in Russian, but he imagined that it spelled out ‘Ubiytsa’. 

He moved so he could walk closer to Yurio. “Sure,” he said. 

Yurio grinned, happy to share something that so clearly meant so much to him. He opened up the album. As he went through the pictures, Yuri thought to himself that this—what he was feeling right then—was a feeling to rival the happiness he had found in the art museum in Canada.


	47. NMM: Chapter 47

Victor was sitting on the bench lacing up his skates. He was trying very hard not to think about the fact that today was Yuri’s birthday. In a little over the week, the Grand Prix Finals would start. Victor was also trying very hard not to think about the fact that what should have been his and Yuri’s official one-year anniversary was also a little over a week away. It was too cruel. Mila was leaning against the barriers surrounding the rink. Practice hadn’t started yet. Yakov was going through some papers nearby. 

With a slam, the doors to the arena were thrown open. Yurio marched in, looking as moody as usual. He was already wearing his skates; he must have put them on in the locker room. 

“How was Sapporo, Kitten?” Victor asked, a smile playing on his lips. He had missed the livestream; he’d been at practice and hadn’t wanted to stop. Yurio had beaten him at the Rostelecom Cup. Victor knew he was getting old for a skater, knew that this season would be harder than all the others had been. He needed to be ready for the Finals. He wanted at least one more gold before he went out. 

Yurio scowled at him. He practically ripped his skate-guards off and smacked them onto the bench. He dropped his athletic bag. 

“Fine,” Yurio snapped. He took to the ice without being told. 

Well, that hadn’t been the reaction Victor expected. He knew Yurio was mad at him, although he still didn’t know why, but he thought winning in Japan would have been enough to lift even Yurio’s spirits. He _had_ won, hadn’t he? Victor wracked his brain, trying to remember who else had been there, but he had never checked the list. He’d been too upset about his own assignments and too relieved that he wouldn’t be running into Yuri at either of them. 

“What happened at Sapporo?” Victor asked, glancing towards Mila and Yakov. “Did Yuri not enjoy himself?” 

Mila giggled at some secret joke. “I think he enjoyed himself plenty.” She said. “From what I saw, he did. Skipped on the banquet and had a fun little night out, too.” 

Victor raised his brows. Skipping out on the banquet was a line Yurio had toed over the years, but he’d never actually ever done it. And a night out? Victor glanced at where the boy was practicing his jumps. That just didn’t seem like Yurio. 

“Mila,” Yakov grumbled. “Shouldn’t you be practicing?” 

Mila shrugged and got back on the ice. Victor turned to his coach. 

“He got gold, didn’t he?” Victor asked. 

Yakov sighed. He shuffled his papers. “No,” he said. “He came in second.” 

Victor gaped. Someone had beaten Yurio? _How?_ On the ice, each of Yurio’s jumps was picture perfect. It was hard to imagine him losing easily. 

“Who won, then?” Victor asked. 

Yakov was silent a long time, and Victor wondered if his coach had heard him. He opened his mouth to ask again, but then Yakov responded. 

“Katsuki Yuri.” Yakov said. 

Victor’s heart skipped a beat. Yakov didn’t look up at Victor, but he wasn’t really reading his papers anymore either; Victor had known his coach long enough to tell. Victor tried to think of something to say, but words eluded him. 

“He deserved it, too,” Yakov added quietly. “He was very good. Better than the last time I saw him.” 

Victor wasn’t sure he was breathing anymore. He wasn’t sure he was even still sitting on the bench. He was remembering the look in Yuri’s eyes when he, Victor, had told him not to come back. When he, Victor, had told the man he loved that he hated him. Victor closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. He couldn’t stand remembering anymore. He wished he could just forget the whole thing had happened. 

“Get on the ice, Vitya,” Yakov said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “This may be the toughest Final for you yet. You need to be ready.” 

Victor swallowed down the lump in his throat and nodded. He bent to finish tying up his skates. 

The irony that Yuri had won a gold medal, Victor’s asking price, now, almost a year after they had gotten engaged and just over six months since they had split, was not lost on Victor. If anything, it broke his already ruined heart a little further. 

In a little over a week, Yuri would be here, in Petersburg, for the finals again. Victor would have to see him. He wondered if his heart would be able to make it through intact.


	48. HMSG: Chapter 48

## 

Part Five: Help Me Say Goodbye

Yurio and Victor sat together on the bench by the rink. Yakov had called them off the ice to take a break. He wanted to talk to them about the Finals. The Finals, which competitors were officially supposed to arrive at tomorrow. Victor had unabashedly looked up all the other Grand Prix Finalists and watched videos of their performances online, just to see how well he thought he would match up against them. The only person he had not been able to do this for was Yuri. 

Victor had looked up a video of Yuri’s performance at the NHK Trophy a week ago, but every time he went to play it, he hesitated. In the thumbnail for the video, Yuri looked calm, like if he was patiently waiting for something; Victor to play the video, perhaps. Every time, Victor chickened out before he could click on the video to play. It was too hard, he kept telling himself. Too hard to look at Yuri and not see the man he loved, the man who had left him, the man who had broken Victor’s heart. 

Victor had his phone out again. He was trying to decide if he should watch the video now, while he was waiting for Yakov. He could feel Yurio’ judgement rolling towards him in waves. Yurio wouldn’t have hesitated. Broken heart or no, Yurio would have been able to set aside his personal pain and assessed Yuri as a competitor. Victor was saved from making the decision when Yakov started walking over. He put his phone back in his athletic bag. 

“We are supposed to register for the finals and go to the official practice tomorrow.” Yakov said. 

Victor ad Yurio waited patiently. There was something interesting about Yakov’s use of the phrase ‘supposed to.’ 

“I do not want to do this,” Yakov admitted. “I don’t want you two to become…distracted.” 

“Distracted?” Victor objected. 

“By Katsuki Yuri.” Yakov said firmly. 

“That’s ridiculous,” Yurio snapped. “I—” 

“Have proven, if anything, how little you can focus on your own skating when he is around!” Yakov interrupted. 

“He. Got. Lucky.” Yurio hissed. 

It had become a common refrain made by Yurio in the rink in the week since the NHK Trophy. People would tease him about coming in second and Yurio would jump down their throats with nails sharper than those of the cat he loved so much. Victor had done his best to completely avoided the younger skater whenever he could. Yurio’s fury with him had seemed to increase tenfold in the past week, like if everything that had happened in Japan was Victor’s fault. 

Yakov glared at Yurio. “You became distracted,” he said firmly. “Had you been more focused, you would have been better.” 

“He messed me up on purpose!” Yurio exclaimed. 

Despite himself, Victor laughed. “That doesn’t sound like Yuri,” he said. Victor just couldn’t picture the Yuri he knew, sweet Yuri, who became so easily flustered himself, trying to intimidate another skater, let alone Yurio. 

Yurio glared at him hard enough that Victor scooted away from him a little. 

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Yurio practically shouted. “What he’s—” 

“Yuri!” Yakov objected. 

Yurio shot their coach a dirty look, then settled back onto the bench. He looked more sour than Victor had ever seen him. 

“Because of this,” Yakov said, “We will not be checking in until after the practice time has ended. You are required to stay in the hotel, but are free to do what you want with your day otherwise. Therefore, you will be practicing here tomorrow during the allotted practice time, then we will all go over together. Understood?” 

“We have to see him eventually,” Victor said. 

Yakov sighed. He looked very old and tired all of a sudden. “I know,” he admitted. “But the longer I can put that off, I think the better it will be, for the both of you. From what I have seen, he is very focused. He does not allow himself to become distracted or intimidated by the other skaters, and he is better for it. You both could stand to learn from his example. Now don’t take too long. I want to see both of your programs again.” 

Yakov walked off. Victor considered what he had said. He could remember dragging Yuri away from everyone else at a competition last year. Yuri had been imploding, and all Victor had known was that he needed to get Yuri away from everything before he completely fell apart. One of Yuri’s biggest obstacles to being the skater that Victor knew he could be had been his own insecurity. Yuri was constantly allowing himself to be intimidated by others, or comparing himself to them in skill. For Yuri to finally be able to let all that go…it seemed unlikely. 

“Is Yakov telling the truth?” Victor asked. 

Yurio scowled at him, but Victor could tell that his heart wasn’t in it today. He was upset about something, but Victor had no idea what that could possibly be. 

“I’m still mad at you, asshole.” He grumbled. He got up to leave. 

“Yuri!” Victor called before the he could walk away. “What did you mean, when you said he messed you up on purpose?” 

Yurio looked miserable. “He didn’t do it on purpose; he was just being Yuri. It threw me off. Yakov’s right. I shouldn’t have let it get to me.” 

“But what did he _do?”_

Yurio swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut—he couldn’t actually be on the verge of tears, could he? But his eyes were shining when he opened them, and his voice was hoarse. 

“He wished me good luck.” 

Yurio turned and walked away and Victor let him. Why would Yuri wishing Yurio good luck mess up Yurio’s performance? It just didn’t make any sense. And then what Yurio had said later, when he had been arguing with Victor… 

_‘You don’t know what it’s like!’_ Yurio had objected. Then what what was like? It wasn’t like Yurio and Yuri had ever really been friends, and even if they were, Victor regularly competed against his friends; all of the skaters who were in that top tier were either friends or friendly. But still, that bond had never stopped them from being competitive every time the met on the ice. That Yurio would be so thrown off by encountering Yuri in Japan...it just didn’t make any sense. 

“Victor!” Yakov said. “Didn’t I tell you not to dawdle?” 

Victor could worry about Yuri later. If Yuri felt at all like Victor did, there was a good chance the two of them would never talk to each other at all throughout the whole weekend. It was possible. It could be done. 

“Coming!” Victor called. He got to his feet and got back to the ice. He needed to focus on practice. He wanted another gold before he had to concede defeat to the limitations of his own body. 

Still, his heart painfully pounded out _Yuri, Yuri, Yuri._ In less than forty-eight hours, he would finally get to see what had become of his ex-fiancé.


	49. HMSG: Chapter 49

Yuri quickly developed a foreigner’s love of St. Petersburg. Everything reminded him of the color gold, although that may have only been his victory-obsessed mind. He was still reeling a little over everything that had happened in Sapporo. His goal of winning the Grand Prix Finals suddenly seemed much more realistic. 

Along with that, Yuri had been talking regularly with Yurio in the short time they had been apart. Yurio had quickly joined the three people that Yuri could rely on as true friends, after all. It was nice. Yurio sent Yuri a lot of snapchats of his cat, Yuri always replied with commentary on life in Hasetsu. They also traded jabs with each other about the upcoming finals and the need to prepare. Yurio’s confidence that it would “once again come down to the two of them” had further heightened Yuri’s belief that his dream was not as idealistic as it had once seemed. 

Yuri hadn’t see Yurio during any of the practice times—evidently, they’d been split into different groups—and he only briefly glimpsed the other boy during the rehearsal for the opening ceremony the day before. He’d been sitting with a tall, silver haired man. They hadn’t seemed to be talking. 

_There’s something…surreal about finally being here,_ Yuri thought. _Everything I’ve been through, everything I’ve worked for. It wasn’t for nothing._

He was lacing up his skates. The pair dancers had just finished their short program. They had had the opening ceremonies before that. He was here. This was real. This was happening. He, Yuri Katsuki, a twenty-five-year-old amnesiac, was actually about to compete at the Grand Prix Finals. A Finals that, if all was to be believed, he had a good chance of winning. It all felt so impossible, and yet, here he was. 

Yuuko-chan was giving him last minute instructions about what she wanted him to do with the short warm up period he had on the ice before the competition began. Yuri had barely heard a word she said. 

“—and I want to check your jumps,” She finished. “Can you do all that? It’s not too much, is it?” 

He shook his head and stood. “Not at all.” 

She smiled knowingly. “You got none of that, did you?” 

“Just the jumps part.” 

She sighed. “Alright. Go through each of them if you can, don’t push yourself too hard. You’re going last so…” 

He gave her a quick hug. “It’ll be fine.” 

“I know,” she said, squeezing him back, “but that doesn’t keep me from worrying. It just feels so…” 

“Impossible?” 

Yuuko-chan smiled. “I never said that.” 

“It’s going to be okay,” Yuri said. “We’re going to be okay.” 

She pulled away and looked him in the eyes. “Better than okay, I would hope,” she said, chuckling. “Would you call gold just okay?” 

“I think I’d call it ‘brilliant.’” Yuri said. 

“Then let’s do ‘brilliant.’” Yuuko-chan said. “High five!” 

Yuri blinked, then laughed. He tapped her hand lightly with his fist. “Turkey!” 

Yuuko-chan shook her head at his joke, but she was laughing. “Maria teach you that one?” 

“You bet.” 

“Alright then, how would she say this? Get on the ice and go get ‘em, Tiger!” 

Yuri laughed, but he turned to do as she said, throwing his fist in the air as he did. He knew Yuuko-chan wouldn’t understand it, but it was a silent tribute to Maria and Theia and how far he had gotten because the two of them had been willing to help him. 

Be brilliant. Get the gold. Prove to the world that he was someone new and to be respected in his own right. He chuckled to himself as he pushed off the blade of his skate. 

Seemed easy enough. 

OOO

This was happening. This was actually happening. Across the rink, Victor could see as Yuuko tried to give last minute instructions to a head of black hair and gangly limbs that had to be Yuri. Victor’s heart skipped a beat. If everything had gone the way it had meant to, Yuri would be over here with him and Yurio. Yakov would be trying to give Victor instructions, which Victor would ignore to give instructions to Yuri. Across the rink, Yuri finished lacing up his skates. Yuuko-chan grabbed him in a nice long hug. When she pulled away, she held her hand up for a high five; Yuri fist-bumped it. They laughed. She said one last thing to Yuri, and he threw his arm up in the air. He was still laughing. It looked real. Victor couldn’t remember what Yuri’s real laugh sounded like. That was— 

“Vitya, get on the ice!” 

Victor threw Yakov a startled glance; he’d forgotten, for a moment, what he was here for. 

He understood completely now why Yakov had wanted to keep he and Yurio away from Yuri. He got on the ice. Yurio went flying by with a grumbled “old man.” 

Victor pushed off the ice with his skates. He needed to get Yuri out of his mind. They’d competed against each other before, of course, but that had different. Then, Yuri had always been the boy Victor was vaguely intrigued by or later, the man Victor was extremely lucky to be engaged to. He had never met Yuri on the ice as this, as someone who he had a complicated history with, as someone who made Victor feel as though the world was falling out from underneath his feet. 

“You’re going down, Katsudon,” Victor heard Yurio grumble behind him. 

“In your dreams, Yuri—” 

_God, his voice._

“Yuri!” Yuuko shouted. 

Victor turned his head to look behind him. He watched Yuri give a funny smile to himself, probably at being scolded by Yuuko. Yurio was still nearby. They were both coming up, Yuri pushing a little ahead of Yurio as he got ready to jump. 

He watched as Yuri didn’t so much as jump as fly into the air. He spun. He landed. A perfect quad flip. Victor’s heart dropped out. How long had it taken Yuri to figure those out last year? How long had they worked on them together? But that didn’t matter anymore, did it? And Yurio was scowling now, and here was Yuri, coming up past Victor. 

He flashed a thumbs up and a smile at Victor before flying by. 

It was like if nothing had ever happened between them. It was like if Yuri didn’t even care. How could he not care and act like that, doing perfect quad flips and flashing his perfect smile and… 

“I told you,” Yurio said quietly. 

Victor looked down at him. He threw himself into a jump. He was supposed to be warming up. Yakov would get mad if all he did was skate in circles. 

“What?” Victor asked when he had landed. Yurio had stuck with him and shadowed him through the jump. 

“I told you that you didn’t know what it was like. What he—” Yurio took a shaky breath. He looked like he was about to start crying again. 

“I didn’t expect him to be mean,” Victor said. 

“He’s not mean,” Yurio objected. 

Victor glanced at the younger boy. Yurio’s voice was strangely defensive, almost fond. 

“He’s not mean,” Yurio said again, more calmly. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Victor saw Yakov fuming. He did another jump to appease the old man which Yurio, again, shadowed him through. 

“Seemed mean,” Victor replied sharply. “It’s like he doesn’t even care.” 

Yurio sighed, and suddenly, he looked older to Victor than his sixteen years. “You don’t know the whole story.” 

“I think I do, Yuri,” Victor said, voice edged. “Considering I was there when he…” 

He couldn’t say it. If this wasn’t the finals, Victor would have dragged Yurio off the ice and throttled him for making him come so close to saying it. 

“Yeah, well, I was the one who spent a whole night with him in Sapporo, so I think I know a little more than you do.” 

Well, that was news. Victor looked, stunned, over at Yurio. 

“You two hung out together in Sapporo? Why didn’t you tell me?” Something clicked in Victor’s mind; Mila chuckling after Yurio had come home from Japan. 

_“You skipped out on the banquet to hit the town with_ Yuri?” he hissed. 

Yurio glared at him. “Mind your own fucking business, _Grandpa._ You’re going to need all the luck you can get if you want to even make the podium this year.” 

Yurio pushed off and was gone. Across the rink, Yuri was still practicing, going through his jumps, moving to some music only he could here. Correction: making music only he could hear with his body as he moved. His skating seemed…different, somehow, but Yuri had always had that ability to make his skating to seem more alive than anyone else could. Yuri and Yurio friends…the thought was too improbable to comprehend, but so had Yuri sneaking out every night to go skating at some rink hidden in the bowels of Petersburg. 

So improbable had the idea been of Yuri leaving him that Victor had never thought to protect his heart from the pain of it. 

The practice time ended. Victor came off the ice. Somehow or other, all of this, all his heartache and melancholy of the last six months was reaching its conclusion this weekend. If Yuri had come to terms with everything that had happened and was fine enough to smile and Victor and make friends with Yurio, then Victor would be too. 

_I hate you._ Those had been his last words to Yuri. A lie, that suddenly felt like it was on the brink of coming true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha. You thought they were going to meet and then!  
> nope.  
> Because I am, as established, a terrible person. 
> 
> Out of curiosity, how many of you follow me on tumblr, and do you guys think I should post updates for this on there? I'm conflicted, and I need an opinion I can trust.   
>    
> ~~also the moment you've all been waiting for comes tomorrow but you didn't hear that from me~~  
> 


	50. HMSG: Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, for anyone who wants to follow me: tumblr url is millyandprudyandfriends. I'm going to be posting updates there as well as here from now on, so you have two places to look for them. Yay!
> 
> And when you (inevitably) get salty, please remember that I am the queen of the slow burn.

Victor went through his short program in a blur. He felt like he had before he met Yuri, before he rediscovered what it meant to be alive and in love. He was just going through the motions, and his score reflected it. Yakov was upset, but unsurprised. He was still Victor Nikiforov. He was still the living legend. A bad score for him was still better than what most people could do on a good day. 

“You have to do better, Vitya,” he pleaded quietly. 

“I know,” Victor promised. “I will.” 

Otabek went after him, and posted a decent score, but Victor knew it wasn’t going to be good enough in the end. He had been here often enough to have a good idea of who would be where by the awards ceremony. Very rarely were there any surprises. Chris, after Otabek, was not one. It made Victor’s heart sink, to think that Chris wouldn’t be making it to the podium in what would likely be his last season, but that was skating. Sooner or later, the body just couldn’t take the rigor, and it showed. 

They resurfaced the ice after that. Then it was Phichit, who Victor thought may just make it. He had won second at Skate America and then had come back to take the gold at Trophée de France. Only Victor and Yurio had placed scores like that in the series, and he had to admit, Yuri’s old friend’s skating was impressive. It felt different and exciting. It riled up the audience. Even people who wouldn’t know anything about skating would know that this was a winning performance, and it was. Phichit’s score put him in second. It was like if Otabek and Chris hadn’t even been there. 

Especially when Yurio came out and put down one of the best short programs Victor had ever seen. It still wasn’t enough though. Yurio had come close, but he hadn’t bumped Victor’s score out either. Evidentially, he was as put-off by seeing Yuri here as Victor had been. It seemed incredibly unfair to Victor that Yuri could do this to both of them and still have looked so…fine with everything himself during practice. Maybe Yuri would finally be the one to do it. Maybe he would be the one to knock Victor out. 

The announcers said Yuri’s name. He came onto the ice, looking calm. 

“Where’s he been?” Victor wondered aloud. 

“He usually finds a quiet corner to warm up in alone,” Yurio said. “Doesn’t like to be bothered, although I suppose he has a good reason.” 

Yuri positioned himself on the ice. Victor’s heart thudded. He couldn’t watch this; he wouldn’t. 

He turned and walked away. He pulled out his phone, slid in one earbud, then the other. The music was starting and the announcers were saying something about the performance, about Yuri, but Victor wasn’t listening. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t watch Yuri and know that Yuri had moved on and— 

“Victor!” Yurio snapped. His hand was on Victor’s coat sleeve. 

“You’re not missing this,” Yurio insisted. 

Victor opened his mouth to argue, but the look on Yurio’s mouth made him snap it closed again. It occurred to him then that, young though Yurio was, it was still completely within his power to throttle Victor with his ice skates. Victor pulled out his earphones. He stepped up to where everyone else was huddled around the screen in the warm-up room. 

The music was sad and beautiful. It was ceaselessly searching even as it resigned itself to loss. And Yuri’s skating…Yuri’s skating beautifully reflected that. This was not a performance to excite the audience. This was a performance to draw them in and break their hearts on the sharp and bitter taste of an unspoken tragedy. 

“He looks like he lost something,” Victor said quietly, “and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever find it again.” 

Chris, besides him, huffed out a sad little laugh. “Well, I suppose you could say he did, couldn’t you?” 

They were all transfixed. Yuri’s skating was beautiful and calamitous. Watching it, Victor felt his heart break all over again. He was standing in his living room, watching as Yuri left, telling him to never come back if he did. The door closed. The piece ended. Yuri stood in the middle of the ice, looking like he’d just been utterly destroyed, but was hopeful about how he might rise from the ashes. 

“Come on,” Yurio said, dragging at Victor’s arm when it was over. 

Victor allowed himself to be led without really thinking about where he was being taken. A cheer went up from the audience, but it was tinted with disappointment. Yuri’s score must have gone up. Had it not put him in first? After that, Victor was pretty sure he would have given Yuri anything he asked for. His anger was all gone. He just felt empty. 

Victor barely thought about where Yurio was leading him until the cold air of the rink hit his face. The realization of what Yurio was planning hit Victor just as hard. 

Oh. Oh no. Oh _hell_ no, definitely not, no no _no._

“Yuri,” Victor said. There was a surprising trace of anxiety in his voice. When had that gotten there? 

“I want to talk to him,” Yurio said. He wasn’t looking at Victor. “I’m tired of all this shit.” 

“Yuri, no, I can’t—I,” Victor was pleading now. He couldn’t do this. His freshly ruined heart couldn’t stand it, wouldn’t survive it. 

He tried to dig his heels in, but Yurio was strong. He kept dragging Victor along, and then there was Yuri, looking a little different than Victor remembered him, perhaps, but still Yuri. His back was to them and he was talking to Yuuko-chan as she bent to pick up her clipboard. Yuri had his blue athletic bag slung over one shoulder. Out of his skates and back into trainers. Yuuko was still fussing with something. Yuri shook his head and started to turn around. 

_This is it,_ Victor thought to himself. _This is when it all falls apart._

But the next thing Victor knew, something big and dark was flying towards them at inhuman speeds and wrapping its arms around Yurio.


	51. HMSG: Chapter 51

Yurio!” the thing screamed. It was Yuri, acting like if Victor wasn’t even there, like if Victor was just any other person, like if they hadn’t— 

Suddenly, it seemed like a very real possibility that Victor would get sick right then and there. This possibility only grew as Victor realized that Yurio was not only tolerating Yuri’s embrace, but had one arm swung around Yuri’s back, his shoulders not tense, but relaxed. 

At last, Yurio grumbled and Yuri let go. 

“It’s good to see you!” Yuri said. “I didn’t see you skate, but Yuuko-chan says you’re in second, so it must have been good. I’m only in third right now, but,” he paused to shrug. 

“I agree with what you said in Sapporo.” He finished simply. 

Victor may as well have been a stranger, for all Yuri was addressing him. He tried to scoot away, but Yurio still had a firm grip on his arm. 

“You were alright,” Yurio replied with a shrug. The two of them were completely focused on each other. 

“I thought you said you were going to ‘up your game’ for this. I did. Why aren’t you delivering?” Yurio demanded. 

Yuri smiled. “Don’t worry, it’s coming.” 

“Yeah, it better be. I don’t want all of this to be for nothing.” 

“It won’t be.” 

“You’re going down, Katsudon. I can promise you that.” 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Yurio,” came the light hearted response. 

And at last, here it was: discovery. Yuri turned to Victor. Yuri’s eyes were full of polite curiosity. Victor needed to say something before Yuri could get the first word in. He needed to show that he was just as fine as Yuri was. He needed— 

“Your glasses are different,” Victor said. 

He wanted to die. That had to be the stupidest thing he’d ever said. _‘Your glasses are different?’_ Idiot. 

Yuri opened his mouth. Now he had the decency to look anxious. His eyes flew to Yurio. Yuri reached a self-conscious hand up and scratched the back of his head; the motion made his hair stick up adorably. Victor wanted to wrap him up in his arms and apologize for everything. He wanted to break down crying and ask 

Yuri why he had ever done any of it. 

“I…I broke my old pair when I…when I had my accident.” 

Accident? What was Yuri talking about? If something had happened to Yuri…someone would have told Victor, right? He would have known; someone would have thought to tell him. 

“Your…what?” Victor asked. 

Yuri looked like he wished like he could crawl back into some dark corner and hide. Another crack cut through Victor’s heart. He would do anything to make Yuri stop looking at him like that. He remembered the Cup of China last year, when he’d offered to kiss Yuri to make him stop crying. Victor would have done it again, if he had thought it would make a difference. 

“Have you been living under a _rock_?” Yurio growled, spinning on Victor. “I mean, I know you weren’t really paying attention at the beginning of the program, but don’t tell me you missed all of the commentary too.” 

Victor opened his mouth, not sure how to reply but knowing he needed to defend himself before Yurio killed him. 

“It’s alright, Yurio,” Yuri said, and then he was there, dragging Yurio away from Victor. “Why would he have known?” 

Yurio shot Yuri a look that was pure malice, then reeled on Victor again. “Yuri had an accident this summer, at the beginning of the season. You were in a coma for, what—a week?” 

A _coma_? 

Victor had been right; his heart wasn’t going to survive this. Just not for the reason he had originally thought. 

“Five days,” Yuri corrected. He still looked anxious. He scratched at the back of his head again. In truth, Victor supposed, he’d only dropped his arm to save Victor from Yurio. 

“I didn’t remember my name when I woke up,” he added quietly. “I still can’t really believe that I’m here.” 

“Yeah, well, it is something of a miracle,” Yurio grumbled. “When did you say you started skating again?” 

“August.” Yuri said. He dropped his arm and smiled wryly. “And it was only because I snuck out and my feet carried me to the rink.” 

Victor couldn’t do anything but stare at his ex-fiancé. How could he be angry or upset when Yuri was like this? He should have never let Yuri leave Petersburg. He should have never let Yuri leave his side. He should have done something before it had been too late. 

“So you don’t remember _anything_?” Victor asked. His voice was so quiet. In his chest, his heart had shattered. 

“Nope,” Yuri said with a shrug. “It gets a little annoying, sometimes, but I’m getting through it. The doctors say that I’ll probably get everything back someday, but…I’m not sure I believe them anymore. I feel like I should have remembered more by now. And there are so many gaps.” 

Yuri glanced longingly at the ice. “At least my body remembered what it felt like to skate and how to do it, even if my mind didn’t. I don’t know how I would have made it through these last few months if I didn’t have skating.” 

“That’s terrible,” Victor said. 

Yuri looked back at him, those big brown eyes the same, but now completely unaware of the love they had once shown with. The love they had shown with for Victor. 

“It is what it is. If I’m ever going to really recover, I can’t let what happened control me, you know?” 

“Yes,” Victor said. Because he did know, even if he had never lost his memories like Yuri had. He’d watched his world walk out his apartment door without looking back. He’d been trying for months to let go but for to no avail. 

_'If I’m ever going to really recover, I can’t let what happened control me.'_ Yuri’s loss had been controlling Victor since the moment he left, and that was why it had been so hard for him to confront the mere concept of Yuri since. 

And then Yuri smiled. 

“Not a lot of people do,” he said simply. 

It was enough to have Yuri looking at him like that to begin to mend Victor’s heart. He smiled too. He considered saying something more, but then Yuri glanced around. His smile turned sheepish. 

“It seems I’ve lost Yuuko-chan, and I if I don’t want to get in trouble, I should probably go find her,” he said. “It was nice to see you, Yurio. And nice to meet you…?” 

“Victor,” Victor said firmly. He held out his hand. Yuri took it and held on tightly. 

“Victor,” Yuri repeated to himself, and his old, sweet smile was back. A little more of Victor’s heart pulled itself together. 

“It was nice to meet you, Victor.” 

“You as well.” 

Yuri held on for a moment longer, and then he let go. Victor wished immediately that he hadn’t, that they could walk out of this rink hand and hand like they were supposed to. 

“I’ll see you both later,” Yuri said, waving as he turned to leave. 

Victor watched him retreat towards the doors for a moment, and then some impulse took over him. 

“Yuri!” he shouted. Yuri paused, looked back, a question in his eyes. 

“You skate wonderfully.” Victor said. What else could he say? Yuri didn’t remember him, but that. That was meaningful. And certainly better than ‘Your glasses are different.’ 

Yuri grinned. “Thank you!” he called back. And then he was through the doors and he was gone.


	52. HMSG: Chapter 52

“You little _shit,”_ Victor said, shoving Yurio against the wall of the locker room he’d dragged the younger boy into. “How long have you known?” 

Yurio glared at him. “Put me down.” 

_“How long have you known?”_

“Put me down!” 

Victor let go of Yurio’s jacket and he spilled to the floor at Victor’s feet. He was up before Victor could take advantage of the opportunity, however, and backing away. To Victor’s surprise, it was Yurio who kicked one of the rows of locker in frustration. Despite himself, Victor ran forward and pulled Yurio away before he could do any further damage to the lockers or himself. 

“Kitten!” he scolded, pulling Yurio back. Yurio struggled against him. 

“Stop, stop! You’re going to hurt yourself!” 

Yurio went limp and Victor collapsed backwards under the sudden weight onto the bench behind them. He settled Yurio down beside him. Clearly, Yurio was upset as he was. As furious as Victor was that Yurio had kept this from him, he couldn’t bring himself to act on that anger when Yurio, for the first time that Victor could remember, just looked so…broken. 

“Why did you let him leave?” Yurio mumbled. 

“What?” Victor asked. 

“Why did you let him leave?” Yurio said. He lifted up his head to look Victor in the eyes when he said it this time, and his voice was a little clearer. 

Victor opened his mouth to respond, closed it, thought about what he needed to say. 

“Because I was hurt,” Victor said quietly, “and I didn’t know what else to do. He was so intent on going. He thought that no one really wanted him here and I didn’t know how to convince him otherwise. There isn’t a day that goes by when I wish I hadn’t made him stay, Yurio. I’ve missed him so much.” 

Yurio kicked at the floor. “Yakov told me not to tell you unless you asked.” He said quietly. “I wanted to, but the look on his face…it was just one of those things I wasn’t willing to cross him on.” 

Something clicked in Victor’s head. 

“You’ve known since the beginning.” He said. “Your friend—” 

“Was Yuri,” Yurio grumbled. “He’s one of the best skaters out there, we both know it. I couldn’t let him just…give up.” 

Victor looked over at Yurio curiously. “What did you do?” 

Yurio eyes flared wide with suspicion. He scowled at Victor. 

“Nothing.” 

Of course he would say that, though. Yurio prided himself on his independence. He would never openly have admitted to whatever it was that he had done to help Yuri, and Victor knew he must have done something. If not by Yurio’s own recent admission that he could not simply allow Yuri to “give up” then by his own misery at Yuri’s condition, and the surprise and suspicion Victor had seen when he had asked Yurio about it. 

Victor chuckled. “You’re a better person than you allow the world to believe, Kitten.” 

“You don’t know anything about me.” 

“No,” Victor admitted. “I don’t think I do.” 

After a moment, Yurio stood up. Victor let him. He was done being angry or upset or any of it. He was just tired. He wished he could home and curl up with Makkachin and call it a night. 

“I have to go,” Yurio muttered. 

Victor glanced up at him. “Why’d you do it? Why’d you take me to see him? I mean, you already knew…Wait, _is this why you’ve been mad at me?”_

Yurio shrugged in a way that very clearly said ‘yes.’ 

“You let him leave,” Yurio said quietly. 

“I know,” Victor said. “I’m sorry.” 

Yuri nodded once, sharply. He turned away again. He was almost to the door when he stopped, looked back over his shoulder. 

“I took you to see him because you deserved to know. Not because I was angry with you, or I wanted to put you off-balance, because Yakov was wrong and I was tired of lying and because you deserved to know.” 

He slipped out the door. Victor stayed where he was, considering what Yurio had said. 

_You deserved to know._

If the last few minutes had proven anything to Victor, it was that he truly didn’t know Yurio as well as he thought he had. Victor had been an easy target for Yurio’s grief. Yurio, who so hated to approach anything resembling kindness, Yurio, who believed he had to be as hard and cold as the ice he skated on. His thoughts turned unexpectedly to Yuri’s quiet smile when he had said Victor’s name earlier, the way Yuri’s voice had shaped itself around the two syllables. It had been folly for Victor to ever imagine that he could love anyone other than Katsuki Yuri. It had been folly for Victor to try to convince himself that he could hate him. 

Victor pulled himself up off the bench. He had dropped his athletic bag on the floor at some point; he picked it up. Yuri had no idea who he was, but yet… But Yuri had forgotten who Victor was before, hadn’t he? When he had forgotten about the night of the banquet? True, this was worse, if only by virtue of the fact that Victor had taken all that time to regain Yuri’s trust and love and it turned out to all be for naught now, but there was hope. So long as Yuri smiled like that when he said Victor’s name, Victor had to believe that there was hope.


	53. HMSG: Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update fam. I had an ~event~ and it started too early for me to post and went longer than I thought it would. 
> 
> It will likely be another late update tomorrow for the same reasons, but by Sunday we should be back to same Bat time, same Bat channel.

After the allotted public practice time the next day, Yurio followed Victor up to his room and collapsed on Victor’s bed while Victor took a shower. He was still there when Victor came out. He did not move even as Victor moved around him and got dressed. The men did not compete that day, and Victor and Yurio had reached an unspoken understanding in the locker room the night before. Victor did not disturb Yurio except to nudge him aside when Victor was done getting dressed. Yurio continued to stare at the ceiling. 

“Are you okay?” Victor asked. 

Yurio sighed. “I’m bored.” 

“Then go do something.” 

“But I’m _tired.”_

“Then take a nap.” 

“You misunderstand me,” Yurio said, tearing his eyes away from whatever it was that was so fascinating on the ceiling. “I’m not sleepy. I’m tired.” 

“From practice?” 

“From life.” 

Victor frowned. “You’re sixteen. You’re not supposed to be having these kind of existential crises.” 

“What does age have anything to do with it?” 

Victor shrugged. “I don’t know it just seems…odd.” 

“You’re odd,” Yurio muttered, turning back to the ceiling. 

Victor scrolled through his Instagram feed. Chris seemed to be enjoying Petersburg, and a couple of other familiar faces were here as well to see the event. He would miss this one day, he knew, when everyone he had skated with had retired. The community would still be there, but his would be gone. Different. Younger, or perhaps older. It was hard to tell with these things. 

After a while, Yurio rolled off of the bed and stumbled towards the bathroom. 

“I’m going to take a shower,” he mumbled. 

“About time!” Victor called back teasingly. His heart wasn’t fully in it though. Phichit, Otabek, Phichit again, Chris, Michele…where was Yuri? He navigated through the site, looking for the people he followed. He typed in Yuri’s Instagram handle. Nothing came up. In the bathroom, Yurio turned on the shower. The water came hissing out in a dull roar, muffled by the sound of the door. Victor stared at it a moment, tapping the sides of his phone with his fingers. He could have sworn… 

Oh. 

How could he have forgotten? In a fit of fury that spring, he’d unfollowed Yuri from every social media account he had. He hadn’t wanted to see Yuri again. He hadn’t wanted to hear about Yuri going somewhere and being without him. He hadn’t wanted the constant reminder that came with social media of everything he had lost when Yuri had walked out on him, on them. Later, he regretted what he had done, but by then, he knew the damage was complete. 

He navigated to search for other accounts. He typed in Yuri’s Instagram. Nothing. Again. A few accounts dedicated to Yuri’s career as a skater, but not Yuri’s personal account. Victor checked what he had typed in. It looked correct. He tried adding and deleting dashes, underscores, dots. Nothing. It was like if Yuri had never existed on the site. Had he deleted his account at some point? Why? 

“Yurio?” Victor called. 

Something unintelligible came from the bathroom. Victor pulled himself off the bed and walked over to the bathroom. 

“Yurio!” He said again, throwing open the bathroom door hard enough that it smacked against the counter. Yurio shrieked. 

“Do you have a problem?” He demanded from behind the shower curtain. 

“What happened to Yuri’s Instagram?” 

Yurio was quiet for a long time. Victor waited patiently in the doorway, fingers poised over the keyboard. 

“You’re seriously asking me this _now_?” Yurio ground out. 

Victor glanced around the bathroom. It wasn’t like he was standing in the shower with Yurio. And besides, hadn’t they sat in a hot spring together just last year? This was important. Yurio, by some strange miracle, had become friends with Yuri. Therefore, he almost definitely had the answers Victor needed. 

“Yes…?” Victor said. 

Yurio released a long suffering sigh. “It’s Katsucutie -underscore-Yuri.” 

Victor’s jaw dropped at the title, but his fingers were already entering the handle into the search bar. 

“He had to get a new account—don’t ask me why, I get the feeling he doesn’t know why he deleted it either—and his two best friends made him that one while he was in Canada.” 

There it was. Victor clicked on the follow button. 

“Thank you!” he said, moving to leave. 

“You need help!” Yurio shouted as Victor closed the door. He smirked and settled back onto the bed. It had seemed like an odd handle for Yuri to pick out for himself, not that Victor was objecting to its accuracy, but if his friends had made it, that explained a lot. Distantly, Victor wondered what Yuri’s other options had been if he had willingly surrendered to something as blunt as “katsucutie.” 

Victor scrolled through the account, careful not to like anything too old. There were a couple of shots of Petersburg, and from the captions, it looked like Yuri was enjoying the city. The thought warmed Victor’s heart. It was enough to erase the painful memory of Yuri leaving, hysterically saying that he didn’t belong here. There were other pictures too; the rink, the triplets, a few of Yuri that Yuuko-chan must have taken and sent to him. A little more than a week back was evidence of Yuri’s night with Yurio; Yurio skating on an outdoor rink, Yurio scowling at the camera, and the two of them, heads together, smiling underneath a radio tower of some sort. 

It was strange to think of the two of them being not just civil with each other, but friendly. Victor barely glanced up when Yurio emerged from the bathroom, dressed in street clothes he’d evidentially had stashed in his athletic bag. Victor waved his phone at Yurio. 

“Looks like you two had fun in Sapporo,” he said. 

Yurio’s scowl was savage. “If he posted those photos, I’m going to kill him.” 

“What photos?” Victor asked. If his voice was a little overeager, he didn’t care. Something that Yurio wanted to hide that desperately had to be good. 

Yurio snatched Victor’s phone away. He didn’t look relieved, but he didn’t look as tense as he had two seconds ago. He threw Victor’s phone back. 

“Not there?” Victor asked sweetly. 

“No, thank God. He’s smarter than he looks, then,” Yurio replied. 

“What did you two do that you don’t want the world knowing about?” 

“None of your goddamn business, that’s what.” 

Victor glanced up at Yurio. Yurio glared back down at him. 

“How did you find out, anyways?” Victor asked. “That Yuri had…had an accident. What even happened?” 

Yurio’s expression clearly laid out his guilt. Victor’s heart thudded, as if anticipating the fact that he was about to hear something he wouldn’t like. 

“Kitten…?” Victor asked. 

“He called you,” Yurio said hoarsely. “That day, or night I guess it would have been for him. We were at practice. I had stopped to get some water. And…and your phone started ringing.” 

The happiness Victor had discovered moments before in Yuri’s new Instagram was gone. He felt numb again. There was a slight ringing in his ears. This wasn’t happening. 

“So I picked it up,” Yurio said. “And I answered it, but then it went dead. So I figured he must have made a mistake, called you on accident or something.” 

In his mind’s eye, Victor could suddenly picture the moment Yurio was describing in perfect clarity. 

“I almost caught you,” he said numbly. “I almost…” 

He swallowed. He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t think about how close he had come to getting Yuri back without any trouble. 

“I deleted the call from your history,” Yuri said quietly, “and I lied, because I knew you were upset and I didn’t want to make it worse. He had just left, it felt like. I didn’t…” 

Yurio trailed off. Swallowed. When he spoke again, it was steadier. 

“I knew he didn’t try to call you again because you didn’t change. You were still upset, but not any more so than usual. So I still thought that it was a fluke, but just to make sure, I texted Yuuko-chan and she told me everything. I was going to tell you, but Yakov stopped me. Told me that you needed to focus on your skating and that this would just distract you.” 

Well, Yakov hadn’t been entirely wrong. Knowing would have distracted Victor. It still could. But the decision had never been the old man’s to make. He had never considered that Victor would have been happy to be distracted, if only he could have Yuri back in his life again. Perhaps not a Yuri that remembered him, but a Yuri who Victor could have loved more perfectly, a Yuri who Victor could stop from walking away from him in Petersburg. 

“I’m never going to forgive him,” Victor said quietly. His voice felt deadly. The thought made his heart race with excitement. 

“He’s been doing his best to help,” Yurio replied defensively. 

“I don’t care,” Victor snapped. “If this had happened to someone you loved, you would want to know, wouldn’t you? Regardless of what it did to your skating? And besides that, making you shoulder this alone? Yuri, this wasn’t something you should have had to deal with by yourself!” 

“I had Yuuko-chan to text.” 

“Yuuko-chan wasn’t here.” 

Yurio raised his eyes to meet Victor’s, and Victor took him in, all that directionless anger, the pent-up frustration. He wished he could have done more for the younger boy. 

“It doesn’t matter now, does it?” Yurio asked. “He’s here now. You know. It’s over. It’s done.” 

“I’m retiring after this year.” 

“You just came back!” 

“I can’t do another year with Yakov knowing this, though, don’t you see? The trust is broken.” 

“What will you do?” 

“Yuri,” Victor said simply. “Go back to coaching him, wherever he wants to be. I don’t care, so long as I can be with him.” 

“You really do love him, don’t you?” Yurio asked. 

Victor glanced up at him again. 

“He means everything to me.” 

Yurio sighed. His phone buzzed and he checked it. 

“Who is it?” Victor asked. 

“Beka,” Yurio said. “He wants to know if I want to do anything. Show him around the city. _Is it already five o’clock?”_

Victor checked the time on his phone. “Yes,” he said simply. He rose gracefully to his feet and stretched. “I have to go take out Makkachin, if you want to come with. Bring Beka along too, if you want.” 

Yurio shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’ll do something with him later.” 

“Don’t want a chaperone?” Victor teased, bumping Yurio with his shoulder as he went to grab his shoes. 

Yurio scowled at him and shock flooded through Victor. He’d been kidding but Yurio…Yurio looked serious. 

“Mind your own business,” Yurio grumbled. 

“Whatever you’re doing,” Victor said, pulling on his coat and shoving his feet into his loafers, “I just hope you two are being safe.” 

Yurio flushed red. “It’s not like that!” He choked. 

Victor reached over and flicked Yurio’s nose. 

“Of course not,” he said with a sly smile. “Now are you coming or not?” 

Yurio grumbled, but gathered up his things. Together, the two of them walked out into the hall. Victor tried not to consider too deeply what Yurio and ‘Beka’ were up to, but a part of him was also freakishly curious. When they got in the elevator, Yurio slammed the button for the floor above them. 

“Yurio, I don’t want to tell you what to do—” 

“I have to run an errand.” 

“Oh.” 

They stood together in silence. It seemed ironic to Victor that everyone always referenced “elevator music” but it was never playing when you really needed it to. The doors opened up, Yurio strode quickly out and down the hall, Victor close behind him. 

“Are you going to see ‘Beka?’” He asked. 

“No,” Yurio snapped. He came to a halt outside of a door and pounded on it harshly. A moment later, it swung open to reveal Yuuko in a comfortable pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt. Her hair was pulled up in a bun. Victor glared at Yurio. Whatever he was planning, it seemed cruel that he hadn’t let Victor in on it. 

“Yurio!” Yuuko cried. “I didn’t know you were coming!” 

“Victor has to take out his dog,” Yurio said. “Is—” 

Yuri appeared behind Yuuko, already pulling on his coat. 

“I’d love to,” he said. “Yuuko-chan, I’ll see you later.” 

He gave her a quick hug. “Enjoy your evening; don’t wait up!” 

Yuri slipped past her and closed the door before she could even finish saying his name. 

“Come on,” Yuri called, already striding down the hall, “before she realizes she didn’t give me a curfew.” 

Victor stared at his old fiancé with open shock. What the hell had just _happened_? Yurio scowled and pulled up his hood. He set off after Yuri. 

“You heard him,” he hissed. “Let’s go.” 

Victor looked back at the door, then at the curve in the hallway Yurio was already disappearing behind. 

“Victor!” Yurio called. 

Victor went hurrying after them, his heart singing “Yuri, Yuri, Yuri” with every stride. It was almost too beautiful of a scenario to believe in. And Yurio, of all people, had been the one to orchestrate it. What had his life even come to?


	54. HMSG: Chapter 54

Yuri leaned his head back against the elevator wall when they stepped inside. Victor watched him. It was strange to compare this Yuri with the one he had last seen. His glasses, as Victor had already noted, were different. It was odd, how something as simple as a pair of glasses could change someone’s face so completely. The lines of Yuri’s cheeks and jaw looked sharper, somehow. He looked older. More than that, this Yuri was clearly thinner. Not in the haggard way that the old Yuri had sometimes been, but in a way that was almost unnoticeable to anyone who wasn’t familiar with Yuri’s daily life. 

Yuri was wearing an old pair of jeans, and his coat was the same. The same coat he’d been wearing when he had met Victor in the airport following the Rostelecom Cup last year. A pang went through Victor’s heart, but he dismissed it by continuing his careful study of this new Yuri. A colorful knit hat was pulled over Yuri ears, which was new, but that sweater… 

That was Victor’s sweater. Where had Yuri…? 

He’d been wearing it when he’d left, Victor remembered suddenly. It had been a tiny, insignificant detail in the night full of heartbreak and misery, but afterwards, Yuri must have kept the sweater, even when had gone home and presumably tried to forget about Victor the way that Victor tried to forget about him. Victor’s heart flared with warmth again. Maybe…maybe he could get Yuri back. Maybe this time they would get everything right. 

The elevator stopped. Yuri straightened. When the doors opened, Victor watched as Yuri’s eyes widen in shock, and then were quickly schooled back into composure. Victor glanced towards the waiting lobby. A man stood there, every inch of him looking picture perfect, from the black scarf swept artfully over one shoulder, to his purposefully tousled hair. Victor had seen him before; he’d been a particularly horrid skater at Trophée de France. 

"Yuri,” the man, mouth twisting into a queasy smile. Even his accent sounded like something out of a movie. “We really must stop meeting like this.” 

Yuri’s voice was dry. “Once again, you’re going up and I’m getting out. Shame.” 

Yurio slipped passed the man, looking disgusted. Victor was torn between dragging Yuri out after him and shifting to stand next to Yuri in a very distinct way that would say “boyfriends.” 

The man chuckled. Victor resisted the urge to shove him forcibly out of their way. 

“Yuri,” Victor said quietly. 

The man only just seemed to notice Victor. He glanced Victor over curiously. Victor raised his brows in a silent challenge. The man made an expression that seemed to say he had seen all Victor had to offer and it was nothing special. The urge to hit the stranger repeatedly with his ice skates returned to Victor. 

“Moved on already?” The man asked. “I’m hurt.” 

Yuri shrugged unsympathetically. He looked at Victor gave him a smile that said he was sorry for the trash in their way, would Victor please excuse them while Yuri cleaned it up? 

“It doesn’t do to dwell on the past, Séraphin,” Yuri said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” 

He slipped out. With a smirk at the Frenchman, Victor followed. 

“What was that about?” Yurio asked when they had returned to the lobby. 

Yuri laughed, but it sounded nervous. A sick feeling twisted in Victor’s stomach. He tried his best to push the thoughts and explanations that came flooding to his mind away. Yuri wouldn’t. Not his Yuri. 

“Nothing,” Yuri said, dismissing the entire incident with a wave of his hand. “I met Séraphin at Skate Canada. We talked a little, but he’s kind of annoying, when you think about it.” 

Relief flooded through Victor. Even though he knew that at the time, he and Yuri were not technically together and Yuri had forgotten about everything besides, it was still comforting to know that Yuri wouldn’t have given into the charms of a sleazy Frenchman. He was still, as far as he could be, Victor’s Yuri. 

“Where are we headed?” Yuri asked, as they walked through the doors. “I don’t think you ever got the chance to say.” 

“We need to take out Victor’s dog. And then we were going to get dinner.” 

“Great,” Yuri said, bobbing his head in agreement. “And where—” 

They stepped through the doors. The moment the evening wind hit Yuri, his face melted into pure bliss. 

“Freedom,” he whispered. 

The sun had set a little over an hour ago—winter days in Petersburg were always so short—but the planes of Yuri’s face were lit up by the light from hotel and the lamps along the street, casting the long shadow of his eyelashes over his cheeks and painting his skin gold. ,i>Beautiful, Victor’s heart sang. _Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful._ If he and Yuri had still been together, Victor would have kissed him then, if only so he could taste Yuri’s golden lips. 

Yurio shot Yuri a dirty look and the moment was ruined. They started walking down the street together. 

“Haven’t been out much?” 

Yuri’s responding laugh was cruel and short. “I got in trouble after Sapporo, because I didn’t tell anyone that I was going out. It barely mattered that I had followed the rule and gone with you. I went out without telling them.” 

“So what…they followed you everywhere?” 

“Actually, yeah,” Yuri said. “I used to avoid it by just hiding in my room, but you can’t do that forever, you know? And then on top of it, I fell down during practice when I got back and took five more seconds getting up than usual. From the way Yuuko-chan reacted, you’d think that I’d gone into a coma again. They started checking on me every hour after that, I think just to make sure I was alive. It gets annoying, after a while, to be all but told you’re not trusted on your own.” 

His voice was bitter by the end of his speech. Victor resisted the urge to wince. 

“So that’s why you were so eager to leave Yuuko behind then,” Victor said. He smiled at the reminder of Yuri’s sudden appearance at the door and his scramble to escape. 

Yuri’s answering smile is sad. “She’s well meaning, but…” he shrugged, evidentially unable to voice his frustration with one of his dearest friends. “I have a tendency to wander off that everyone has long since ceased to find ‘endearing.’ They treat me accordingly.” 

“I thought you sent me a snapchat of the beach, though,” Yurio said. “Like, two days ago.” 

Yuri’s looked devilish. “I figured out how to sneak out of my room ages ago. Surprisingly, no one ever questioned how I got to the rink the first time. Whenever I need to go out, I jump out the window and make a break for the street. Then I do what I want until I have to go back.” 

“Wait—” Victor said. Something wasn’t clicking just right. “What do you mean ‘got to the rink the first time.’ Why would you have needed to sneak out to go skating?” 

Yuri’s face fell. “I didn’t remember skating when I…came back. Nothing. At all. I didn’t even know what my ice skates were when I found them, and no one was about to tell me. I think they hoped I wouldn’t remember, if only so they could protect me a little longer.” 

“Protect you from what?” 

“Another accident? I don’t know. But my sister all but tried to hide everything about it from me and told me to forget about it.” 

“That’s insane.” 

Yuri shrugged. “Well, I’m here now, and that’s what matters.” 

Victor smiled. That was true. Even if Victor had lost Yuri, even if things would likely never be the same between them again, at least Yuri was here, and Victor could hold onto the hope of them coming back together. 

“So what did happen?” Victor asked. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is. With your accident?” 

Yuri shrugged. “I don’t know. No one else does either. Yuuko-chan says I had been at the rink practicing that night, then left in a rush, just saying that I was going home. They waited and…I never arrived.” He paused and frowned. “They don’t even know where I was going, actually, because I wasn’t anywhere near home when they picked me up. Almost the opposite direction, actually.” 

“Strange,” Victor said. His voice felt hollow. In his mind, he was reviewing the streets of Hasetsu that he had biked and walked through last year. Yuri had said he was going home, but he had been in an entirely opposite direction. Heading from the ice rink… 

The train station. The train station was in an opposite direction. Yuri hadn’t been going back to the hot spring. He’d been coming here. To Petersburg. To Victor. Victor’s heart surged. 

When they stepped into the apartment, Yurio made a beeline for the bathroom. Makkachin came rushing out of the bedroom, where Victor knew he was prone to sleeping on Yuri’s now-abandoned side of the bed. He jumped on Yuri and Yuri laughed. Victor stood by, watching as his dog reunited with his old fiancé. Makkachin had always had a soft spot, for Yuri, he knew. He had taken it as a sign that Yuri coming here was right, that this was where Yuri belonged. 

“Hello,” Yuri was saying, scratching behind Makkachin’s ears and along his neck, just the way the dog loved to be. “What’s your name?” 

“Makkachin.” Victor supplied. He leaned on the wall and continued to watch. This. This is what he wanted. Yuri and Makkachin and him all together like they were supposed to be. It didn’t matter where, just so long as Yuri kept on laughing like that and Makkachin kept on happily wagging his tail and Victor was able to be there to bask in the moment. 

“Hello, Makkachin,” Yuri said. He had given up all pretense by now and had collapse on the floor, Makkachin spilled over him like the needy, slobbery, furry blanket of joy that he was. 

“I’ve been thinking about getting a dog,” Yuri said offhandedly. “I know I used to have one, though it doesn’t mean much to me.” 

“Why not?” 

Yuri sighed. “Sometimes, I remember things. There are still a lot of gaps, but every now and then, something will come up. But it’s not me. It’s like…watching someone else’s life. The people who mean things to me now—my mama, my sister, Yuuko-chan—they don’t mean anything to me because I remember them being close to me. They mean something to me because they’re present and making a positive impact on my life now.” 

Yuri glanced up at him. “Does that make sense?” 

Victor nodded. “You’re not the same person,” he said. 

Yuri’s face cracked into the most beautiful smile Victor had ever seen. “Exactly,” he said. “Now if only more people could understand that.” 

Yurio emerged from the bathroom. Makkachin bounded up to him, but Yurio quickly pushed him away. 

“Hey,” Yuri objected. “I know you’re a cat person, but that doesn’t mean you can just be rude to my new best friend.” 

Victor glanced down at Yuri. “Your new best friend?” He asked, brows raised. 

Yuri was still grinning. “Shhhh. I may just steal him when you least expect it.” 

Victor laughed, and Yuri did too. Rich and real and clear and beautiful. Yurio scowled at both of them. 

“Are we taking him out or what?” he demanded.


	55. HMSG: Chapter 55

They took Makkachin for a lap around the park. Victor locked up the apartment while Yurio and Yuri talked in low voices behind him. For a moment, it was almost as if Yuri had never left, and they had just come home for practice, and Yurio had come over to get dinner with them. Yuri’s phone buzzed with an incoming call and he answered. 

“Mama!” he shouted. 

Victor turned around. Yuri sounded practically giddy. Whoever was causing that needed to be seen. 

“Yuri, baby!” a woman called back through the speakers. “How are you? How are the Finals going?” 

The woman on Yuri’s screen was about his age, all full lips making a big smile and dark wavy hair framing sparkling eyes. She was actually quite pretty. Victor felt a pang of jealousy that she, a stranger, someone who couldn’t have known Yuri as long as he had, could cause Yuri to smile so brilliantly and make laughter chase every word that fell from his mouth. 

“Good. I’m in third.” 

The woman screamed. “We got your gold medal the other day. It’s pinned all nice and pretty on the fridge. Will we get this one too?” 

Yuri shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll see how it goes.” 

“Hm. Well, anyways. I’m proud of you.” 

“Thank you, Mama.” 

Victor wasn’t really certain what to do. Would Yuri follow if they set off down the hall? Obviously, talking to this woman was important to him, or else he never would have picked up the phone when it started ringing. And was he—he wasn’t actually sending her all of his medals, was he? Yuri’s old medals and trophies had been sitting on the shelf with Victor’s after he’d moved in; Victor had insisted on displaying his fiancé’s achievements proudly. After Yuri had left, though, and Victor had regained some of his composure, he’d packed up all of Yuri’s things carefully and put them in the downstairs storage unit. Partially in anticipation of the day when Yuri would inevitably ask for them back, partially in hope that Yuri himself would one day return. 

“So what are you up to tonight?” The woman asked. 

“Actually,” Yuri said, “I’m out with friends.” 

“Ooooo. I’m not interrupting, am I?” 

“I don’t think they mind,” Yuri said. “Besides, you take precedence.” 

“Good.” She was practically preening now. “So who are these friends of yours?” 

Yuri tilted the phone so Yurio, moping in the wall, came into the frame. “This is Yurio,” Yuri said. “He—” 

“THE SMOL TIGER!” The woman shouted. “How’s his kitty? Yuri, baby, if you don’t have a plus one by the time the wedding rolls around, I’m begging you to bring him.” 

Yurio scowled at the camera. “Who the hell are you supposed to be?” he asked. 

Yuri turned the camera back to himself. Victor tensed in anticipation. 

“His Mama!” The woman shouted. 

“Maria,” Yuri clarified for Yurio. “One of my best friends.” 

“Damn straight!” Maria called. 

The phone turned inevitably to Victor. He gave his best smile and waved. 

“Hello!” He said. 

There was a long pause, followed by a little “Hm.” 

“Yuri,” Maria said. 

Yuri was smiling knowingly at some private joke. Had Maria not liked him? Why did Yurio get such an overwhelming response and Victor virtually nothing? 

“Yes, Mama?” Yuri asked sweetly. 

“We need to talk later. Privately.” 

“Okay.” 

Yuri was still smiling funny. Yurio set off down the hall. Victor hesitated a moment, glancing towards Yuri to see if he had noticed, then followed. A second later, Yuri fell into step besides him. He tilted the phone so they were both caught in the frame together. Maria was folding laundry on a coffee table. Wherever she was, it was still light outside, only early afternoon, at most. 

“Is there a reason you called, Mama?” Yuri asked. 

Maria’s face lit up. “Two reasons, actually. Both wedding related, well, mostly. One more so than the other.” 

“Alright.” 

“I need you to walk me down the aisle.” 

Yuri stopped. Victor stopped with him. 

“Maria,” he said. There were tears in his eyes. “Really?” 

She nodded firmly. “The only other person I would want is my Grandpapa, but he died last year…” 

Now she looked like she was about to cry. 

“So it has to be you, baby.” 

“I’d be honored,” Yuri said quietly. 

“Good,” Maria said. She sniffed proudly and Yuri paused to wipe his eyes. 

“Good boy,” she said again. “I knew I could count on you.” 

“What was the second thing?” Yuri asked. 

Now Maria looked positively devious. 

“So Theia was telling me about some of your good old college experiences the other day, specifically a little fundraiser your GSA chapter used used to do for the Trevor Project.” 

“Fuck,” Yuri swore. Evidently, he could guess where this was going. “No.” he said firmly. 

“Pleeeease?” Maria begged. “For me? For Mama?” 

“No,” Yuri said again. His ears were turning bright red. What was Maria referencing? 

“Theia said you were a natural. I need this for my bachelorette party,” she insisted. 

“Maria, you’re gay. You like girls. It would make zero sense.” 

Victor was starting to get an idea of where this was going now. He strongly approved. He wanted to grab the phone and scream “YES” as loudly as he could just so that he could help Maria bully Yuri into this. 

But he couldn’t. Because he wasn’t supposed to know Yuri that well. Because Yuri thought they were strangers. Because it would completely mortify Yuri if he found out that when he was a person he could no longer remember, he got so drunk one night he had— 

“I don’t care; I need you pole dancing at some point during my wedding!” Maria shouted. 

Victor couldn’t help himself; he tilted his head back and burst out laughing. Yuri glanced at him, cheeks bright red and looking adorable in his embarrassment. 

“Victor is on my side!” Maria shouted. “This is why I like Victor!” 

“What are you idiots making a fuss about?” Yurio grumbled. He had dropped back to see what was going on. A scowl was plastered across his face, but Victor got the feeling that Yurio too was reveling in this time with Yuri, how it could almost be last spring, before everything had gotten ugly and they had all been happy. 

“Maria,” Yuri objected, “I don’t even know if I can do it anymore; I’ve forgotten a lot. I don’t think I’ll remember this.” 

“Pshaw,” Maria replied. “A convenient excuse. You remembered how to skate, didn’t you? Besides, if you don’t remember, we can all take a class together before the actual date. You’re still coming a few days in advance, right?” 

“Yes, Mama,” Yuri said wearily. 

“So,” she prodded, “will you at least think about it?” 

Yuri sighed and it was long suffering. “I’ll think about it,” he conceded. 

Maria squealed and clapped her hands together. “Good. So. New friends. Doing well. Are you having fun?” 

“Yeah, I—” Yuri paused to laugh. “I had almost forgotten. You’ll never guess who I ran into in the hotel as we were leaving.” 

“Who?” Maria asked suspiciously. Yuri looked at her in a very pointed way and her eyes widened. 

“Really?” she gasped. “You’re kidding!” 

Yuri shook his head. He was still chuckling a little. “I wish I was.” 

Maria shrieked. “OH MY GOD. That’s just too good. Way too good. Was it awkward? I bet it was awkward.” 

“Who are you talking about?” Yurio grumbled. 

“OUR FAVORITE FUCKABLE FRENCHMAN.” Maria shouted. 

Victor winced. They were on the street now. Good thing none of the neighbors had heard. 

“Who?” Victor asked. The sick feeling was back in his stomach. 

“The only thing accurate about that title,” Yuri objected, “is that the man is French. Everything else is false and I want the record to reflect that he has completely and eternally ruined _the entire country of France_ for me.” 

“Aw, Babe. I’m sorry.” 

“No, you’re not.” 

“You’re right I’m not.” 

“Context. Backstory. Explanation. Please.” Victor interrupted. 

Yuri groaned. Maria smiled savagely. 

“So Yuri met this super hot guy at Skate Canada,” she said. “I mean like, sex oozes off this man. It’s ridiculous.” 

“Right,” Victor said. He wasn’t sure he liked where this was going. He had been so convinced earlier that Yuri wouldn’t…wouldn’t have slept with anyone else, even if he couldn’t remember Victor. He felt suddenly too hot and as if he was going to be sick. He didn’t want to hear what came next. 

“And he and Yuri totally—” 

Victor closed his eyes. 

“It doesn’t matter what happened,” Yuri said tightly, “because as I pointed out earlier this evening, he’s kind of annoying and not very interesting anyways.” Victor opened his eyes. Yuri was looking at him. His face was calm but his eyes were furious. Out of the corner of his eye, Victor could see Maria watching them carefully. 

“What about the Mystery Man, Yuri?” she asked gently. 

Yuri tore his eyes away from Victor, and Victor’s heart ached in their absence. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever find him, Maria,” Yuri said lightly. “Besides, what if I find someone better?” 

Maria propped her chin on her hands. “Just be sure,” she said. “No more moments of temporary insanity, okay?” 

Yuri smiled again. “Trust me,” he said. “I’ve learned my lesson.” 

She grinned. “Good. Now, Mama’s got to go. Do well tomorrow, Baby, and call me sometime tonight because we need to talk! Alone! About…us stuff!” 

“Okay. Love you.” 

“I love you too,” she said firmly. The last image on the screen was her hand as she reached forward and ended the call. Yuri pocketed his phone. The case was different too, Victor noticed. No more poodles. He must have lost the old one in the accident. 

“I know you’re probably going to ask,” Yuri said before either of them could comment, “so, yes, I once knew how to pole dance. I was part of a club in college that supported the LGBTQ plus community. Apparently, we did a pole-dancing fundraiser every year for a charity of some sort that helps support and prevent suicide in kids who are questioning their sexuality. Theia—Maria’s fiance—and I were in the club together. She signed me up for it one year as a joke. So I signed her up too. From the way Theia tells it, I always brought in the most money for the Project.” 

They were all silent for a moment as Yuri let Victor and Yurio take this in. In all honesty, of all the explanations Victor had considered for _why_ Yuri knew how to pole dance, this was better than anything he could have thought of. At the same time, though, it was so...Yuri. Yuri was never the type to put himself out there like a true stripper, but doing something for kids, more than that, for kids who were struggling in a way that Yuri might be able to relate to... 

“I like her,” Victor said. “And I think that it’s sweet that you helped do that in college.” 

Yuri blushed in a very pleasant way. Victor heart ached for the days when he could have kissed Yuri’s flushed cheeks and nose at his leisure. 

“She’s weird; you’re both weird,” Yurio retorted. 

“She’s one of my favorite people in the world,” Yuri said with a small smile. “I wish she could be here. Theia too. I wouldn’t have made it this far without them.” 

Yurio glared at him. “Are you always this sappy?” He asked. 

Yuri shrugged. “She’s just one of the few people I can rely on to be honest with me, Yurio. You know that. As a result, I love her dearly and wish I could share more of my life with her. There’s nothing wrong with that, you know.” 

Yurio snorted. “Still weird,” he said. 

“That’s life,” Yuri replied. He turned to Victor. 

“So,” he said, “you live here. Where’s the best place to go for dinner?” 

Victor smiled, if only because the question had been directed at him, and not Yurio. If only because he really did know the perfect place, one he had been planning on taking Yuri too forever but had never had the opportunity to, if only because Maria had said that she liked him and Yuri seemed to agree. 

“I may know a place or two,” he said softly. 

Yuri grinned. Besides him, Yurio gagged. His family was back together. Victor couldn’t help but laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fam, can you believe it's been a month since this crazy ride started?? Because I can't. 
> 
> ~~also I need to get cracking on the companion cause you guys are going to want to read that sooner rather than later~~


	56. HMSG: Chapter 56

They ran into Chris and Phichit and Otabek on their way to their restaurant, and Yuri good-heartedly invited them to come along. Chris and Phichit monopolized Yuri’s attention, asking him about what had happened and how much he remembered now. Yurio and Ultabek were wholly focused on each other in a way that Victor was reluctant to intrude on, so he was left on his own. Mostly, he contented himself with watching Yuri. 

He wasn’t the same, that much was apparent. While it was clear that Yuri wasn’t entirely comfortable discussing what had happened to him, he wore a smile to lighten the serious topic. He scratched the back of his head a lot when he got really nervous, which was a new habit that Victor found particularly endearing. And he laughed more. Often, it was slightly tinged with the anxiety, but every now and then it was loud and clear and beautiful. 

When the waiter came to take their order, Yuri leaned over and asked Victor quietly what he recommended. 

“I trust you,” he said. 

Victor’s heart sang. Once, Yuri had said that to him under entirely different circumstances. Circumstances he might be able to repeat if he did this right. Victor thought about what Yuri had once liked, what he would have liked to make for Yuri, if he ever had the opportunity. He made his recommendation, and Yuri gave him a smile that he had once only saved for Victor. It was almost as Victor was drunk on the newfound potential, the way his mind reeled in hazy joy. 

After dinner, the six of them continued to talk, Chris and Phichit curious about what Yuri had been doing since the accident. 

“And you’re not interested at all?” Chris asked again. “In the life you had before?” 

Again, Yuri shook his head. “It’s not me,” he said firmly. “Why should it matter?” 

Chris’ eyes flew briefly to Victor and then back to Yuri. “I would want to know everything,” he said. 

Yuri shrugged. “Well that’s you.” 

“But you’ve been talking to Theia a lot,” Phichit interrupted. “Doesn’t she tell you anything?” 

“Sure,” Yuri replied. “But she knows it doesn’t really matter to me. It’s more for laughs, and in case I’m ever looking for that connection.” 

Phichit shook his head with a chuckle. “It’s a shame,” he said. “We were a riot in college. And Theia was pretty great too. We had some good times.” 

“Well, it’s in the past,” Yuri said with a shrug. “What matters is now.” 

“Cheers to that,” Chris said, holding up his glass. 

On the main area, a band was warming up and people were starting to dance. Yurio shot the crowd a dirty look and continued to talk to Otabek, doing his best to be heard over the rising roar of people. Phichit, Chris and Yuri all turned their attention to the crowd. 

“Did Theia tell you about how we used to go out dancing?” Phichit asked. “There was a little club—” 

“The Back Beat,” Yuri said with a smile. “Theia told me. We went out dancing in Mississauga after Skate Canada was finished. She was sad that I didn’t remember and that we couldn’t go back so she could show me, but she’s sworn to take me when I’m over there for her wedding this summer.” 

“You wanna dance now?” 

Yuri laughed. “What?” 

“The floor’s right there!” Phichit said. “I can still take you, Katsuki!” 

“Phichit, from what I understand, no one could beat me in a dance battle before. Not to mention, Maria and Theia _tried_ in October and the skills are still there.” 

Phichit sprang to his feet. “Then take me like a man!” 

Yuri didn’t even pause to consider it. “Yurio,” he said firmly before he got to his feet too. “You’re next.” 

“Why?” Yurio spluttered. 

Yuri’s expression was purely demonic. “Because can you feel my heart beat—” he started singing. 

Yurio’s eyes went wide. “ANYTHING BUT THAT,” he said, cutting off Yuri. 

Yuri smiled, content. “Good. Now, Phichit. As the challenger, I do believe you go first.” 

They hit the floor. Phichit was good, but Yuri, as always, was better. Victor propped his chin on his hand to watch. He had always wanted to take Yuri dancing. Yuri was, after all, a dancer by training. All graceful, dramatic lines and curves. Perfect form and artistic expression. That’s probably what had made him such a good skater to begin with; Yuri always had an instinct on the perfect way to interpret the music to tell the story he wanted to on the ice. He had just never trusted the instinct on his own before. Now though…now he seemed to have no trouble with it. 

“Reminds me of the banquet,” Chris said next to Victor with a smile. 

Victor smiled. “But everything’s different now.” 

Victor could feel Chris’ eyes on him. “He still seems to like you, though.” 

“One can hope,” Victor said quietly. 

When the song finished, Yuri grabbed Yurio from where he was sitting and spun him onto the floor. Yurio scowled, but he fell into the music. A moment later, Otabek joined them. He twirled Yurio away from Yuri and the two started dancing together. Yuri didn’t seem to mind, though; he had lost himself completely in the music. 

“Victor! Chris!” Phichit shouted. He waved frantically for them to join in on the fun. 

“Are you going to?” Chris asked. 

Victor hesitated, and then shook his head. Chris was right, it was like the banquet, and he could hope that Yuri still liked him all he wanted, but it felt strange to intrude on this moment. It was nicer to watch Yuri, at ease with himself as so rarely had allowed himself to be in public before. It was bittersweet, Victor reflected, that Yuri could finally confidently be the man that Victor always knew he was, but that Victor had become a stranger to him and couldn’t revel in the moment with him because of it. 

"I’m good just watching,” he said. 

Chris gave an understanding nod and got to his feet. Yuri cheered when he realized that Chris was there. The three of them—Yuri, Chris, and Phichit—danced in a tight cluster for a while, feeding off of each other’s energy. After a while, Chris grabbed Yuri’s hand and they danced together. Yuri went along with it, laughing all the while. Tears pricked at the back of Victor’s eyes. He turned his face away and fiddled with the tines of his fork. He wished that could be him out there, dancing with Yuri, laughing, having fun, but at the same time… 

At the same time, he was afraid to approach the floor and dance with a Yuri that wasn’t _his Yuri._ An equally lovable Yuri, for sure, but would this Yuri override his memories of the old one? Could he allow that? The first time Victor had ever danced with Yuri, Victor had been infected by Yuri’s mirth. Yuri had been drunk just as much on the music as the alcohol that night. And it had made him completely fearless. Even when he was a complete mess, Yuri was the most beautiful man in the world. And he had the soul to match. Victor had never wanted to stop looking at him after that night. 

The music changed, and changed again. Victor was tired. He wanted to go home and curl up with Makkachin. He wanted be able to wake up and find that this had all been a nightmare, that Yuri was still there and his and that they were happy together. He wanted to never have woken up that night and wondered where Yuri had gone. He wanted to have gone back to sleep that night and contented himself with reassurances that Yuri had just gone to the bathroom, or gone to get some water. He wanted Yuri to never have left, Yuri to have told him sooner what was going on, Yuri to always be a comforting presence in wrapped safely in his arms. 

Someone crashed into the seat beside him. 

“Do you not like dancing?” Yuri asked. Laughter colored every word. 

Victor turned his head towards Yuri, but kept his eyes fixated on the table. He could still feel the burn of tears. He wasn’t sure if he could trust his voice, but he forced himself to keep it steady as he said: 

“I just haven’t felt like it in a while.” 

Lost. That was what he had been before Yuri had come along in his life. He hadn’t realized how much Yuri had saved him until the apartment door closed behind him. There was a pregnant pause as Yuri considered this. 

“I’m sorry,” Yuri said at last, quietly. 

“It’s not your fault,” Victor said. And it wasn’t. Yurio was right to blame him; he shouldn’t have let Yuri leave that night, he should’ve done something. He forced himself to meet Yuri’s calm brown eyes. 

Yuri held out his hand to him. “Dance with me,” he said simply. 

Victor hesitated. “I’m not sure. Why don’t you dance with Phichit? Or Chris? You three seemed to be having fun earlier. And I’m sure you could talk Yu—” 

Yurio’s voice was firm. “Yurio and Beka left ages ago, and Phichit and Chris are having plenty of fun on their own.” 

“But…are you sure?” Victor asked weakly. 

“I don’t want to dance with any of them, Victor. I want to dance with you.” 

Victor’s heart stopped beating. He couldn’t bear to look at Yuri any longer. It was too much; he couldn’t do this. Why had he ever thought that he could do this? 

“Please,” Yuri said softly. 

And that did Victor in. He would do anything for Yuri if it would make the other man happy. He met Yuri’s eyes again. The same, but different. There were two scars Victor hadn’t notice before around Yuri’s right eye. One slanted down, the other up. On anyone else, it would have been a tragedy, a disfigurement. On Yuri, it was just two more places that Victor wanted to touch, to kiss. He slid his hand into Yuri’s, and Yuri smiled the most beautiful smile in the world. 

Victor allowed himself to be led onto the floor, although his heart broke a little when Yuri let go of his hand, but then Yuri was swinging his hips and laughing and Victor couldn’t help but go along. He had always wanted to take Yuri dancing here, and here they were, dancing. If it was made a little sadder by the fact that Yuri did not know him, Yuri made up for it with by swinging the long lines of his body in time, by throwing his head back and laughing as he moved, by looking at Victor with more happiness than Victor had seen in him that spring. It felt like they danced for hours. Sometimes, they would dance together, Yuri grabbing Victor’s hands and pulling him through twirls and twists and spins. Sometimes, they danced alone or with Phichit and Chris. Every now and then, Chris would throw a knowing look at Victor, but Victor was too enraptured in Yuri to care about what he was implying. 

If Victor could stay in this moment forever, he would be happy for the rest of his life. 

He was surprised when Yuri tapped his shoulder. He had lost himself to the music and the rhythm of the beat. Chris and Phichit were still dancing, but Yuri stood still. Bodies pressed around them from the other patrons of the dance floor, but they were blurs. Victor stopped dancing. He brought himself back down to the earth. 

“Do you want to go back?” Yuri asked, leaning in so Victor could hear him over the music. 

“Back?” Victor asked. His hands were still in the air, still sort of dancing. He never wanted to stop. 

“To the hotel,” Yuri clarified. “It’s almost midnight.” 

“Oh,” Victor said. His hands came down. “I hadn’t realized.” 

Yuri shrugged good naturedly. “I only knew because Yuuko-chan texted me.” 

Because she would be worried about him. Because no one trusted Yuri to himself these days. Because the moment they had stopped watching him, Yuri had had an accident and come back…different. 

Victor glanced towards Phichit and Chris. “Should we tell them?” he asked. 

“If they’re having fun, I don’t want to stop them,” Yuri said quietly, “but if I don’t go back soon, Yuuko-chan will be upset.” 

Victor nodded. “Alright then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's occurring to me now that y'all may have been missing info on the companion if you haven't been reading **really** closely to all my comments. 
> 
> There **will** be a (short) companion to this fic. The reason why is going to be discussed later, but it's because one character (*glares*) was being impatient, another one never got to finish their arc. 
> 
> Current title is "That Kind of Feeling" and it's going to be centered around Maria and Theia's wedding. Phichit's going to be playing a **much** bigger role and another one of Yuri's college friends is going to be there too (Patrick, my baby). Victor POV and scene involving a tie that has more sexual tension than peanut M &M's could ever dream of having. Oh, and angst, because there's nothing I like more in this world than some good old-fashioned drama. ~~also **somebody** (*glares*) is apparently so damaged they no longer believe in happiness~~
> 
> I'm working on writing it right now and I'm about to go on break from school so the goal is to have it done and edited soonish so I can start posting in the last week of March/first week of April. I have high aspirations for timeliness because the last time I had a week to myself alone to write, I wrote almost half of this sucker.


	57. HMSG: Chapter 57

They left together, the bill long since taken care of. Yuri tilted his head back and let the breeze kiss his face when they stepped outside. He hummed softly to himself. 

“That makes four now,” he said once they started walking. 

Victor looked at him curiously. “Four what?” he asked. 

Yuri sighed. “There are two types of people in my world, Victor: the people who care about what my past was and the people who don’t.” 

“Seems a little black and white.” 

“Well, there’s a spectrum to how they treat me as a result of what happened, but in general, that’s how it works,” Yuri said. “The majority of people, my family, the other people I know back in Hasetsu, Chris, Phichit, care about my past. They want me to return to it, somehow. They see the loss of my memories as a loss of who I was. It’s bigger than I am, to them, somehow.” 

“And the minority?” Victor asked. 

“They care, but they know it doesn’t make or break who I am. They still see me,” Yuri said. 

“And who are they?” Victor asked, “your four?” 

“Theia and Maria,” Yuri said, counting them off on his fingers, “Yurio and you.” 

Victor’s heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t really sure what to say. He wasn’t sure he deserved that. Yuri scuffed the toe of his boot along the sidewalk and kicked a piece of ice. 

“I think the worst part of all of all of this is that people don’t trust me to be okay on my own,” Yuri said. “Memory loss, that’s something I’ve just come to accept. I used to apologize whenever I couldn’t remember something, because I felt bad making other people uncomfortable, but after Yurio and I met in Sapporo, he made me stop. It’s not my fault what happened to me, after all. It’s just something that happened.  
“I think to a certain extent, my family and friends in Hasetsu are afraid that something like this will happen again, which is why they’re afraid to leave me on my own. Yuuko-chan blames herself a lot, I know. She thinks she could have stopped me that night, or that she should have.” 

“That’s reasonable,” Victor said. “I mean; they care about you. They don’t want to lose you.” 

Yuri shrugged. “Sure, but that’s no reason to treat me like I’m under house arrest.” He kicked another chunk of ice and it went flying. “They don’t see how I’ve grown since then. As far as they’re concerned, I’m still stuck as the person I was when I woke up; someone they have to help take care of. They don’t see me, they see _him.”_

Yuri’s voice was bitter. Victor glanced over at him. “I’m sorry,” he said, because there was nothing else to say. 

“It’s not your fault,” Yuri said quietly. “It’s nobody’s fault. It just is.” 

Yuri’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and tapped back a quick response. 

“Yuuko?” Victor asked. 

Yuri shook his head. “Maria. She wanted to know if I thought Mexico or Hawaii was better for the honeymoon.” 

“What’d you say?” 

“Paris.” Yuri said with a smile. “I’ve never been, or at least, I don’t think I have, but there’s a famous Opera house there. Theia’s favorite musical is centered around in. And Maria’s an opera singer. It’s perfect for them.” 

Yuri’s phone buzzed again. 

“What does Maria say to that?” Victor asked. 

“Perfect. She’s going to surprise Theia with the opera though, but they are going to kiss…Oscar Wilde’s? Grave together. And then a bunch of stuff about how romantic it is and how I’m a perfect son.” 

“She really calls you her son?” 

Yuri shrugged. “Maria likes to take care of people. She’s friendly, and she let me know from the start that she would always be there if I needed her, but she never holds me back,” he hesitated. “The funny thing about amnesia is that you don’t think about all the gaps in your memory. Like, you know there are some things missing, but there’s also things you don’t think to wonder about.” 

“What do you mean?” Victor asked. He had no idea where Yuri was going with this, but it felt big. 

“Sexuality. Relationships. Swear words. You know, the R-rated stuff. I had no idea about any of it. I was completely baffled when Séraphin flirted with me at Skate Canada. It was the first time I’d left Hasetsu, and I had no idea what was going on.” 

Victor stayed silent. If Yuri was willing to talk to him, to be so open, he wasn’t about to object. 

“So Maria gave me what she calls the ‘classic parental sex-talk’ at dinner that first night. It explained…a lot. Since then, she and Theia have been my biggest supporters. Both on the ice and off. If there’s ever a question about something that I’m afraid to ask someone else, I talk to them. I call Maria my mom because she really kind of is.” 

“It’s good that you have that,” Victor said quietly. 

Yuri hummed in agreement. “Watching the two of them…that’s what I want one day. Theia texted me the other day because Maria had done something funny, but also sweet. ‘An endless chain of surprises’ she said. That’s what it’s like being with Maria for her. I want that. I want to be in love like that.” 

Victor couldn’t breathe. What were the odds, that Theia would use the exact words to describe Maria that Yuri had once used to describe him? He looked away. This was too much. Yuri said that he thought that Victor saw him, but did he really? They had gotten around, somehow, so they were across the river from the winter palace. It was lit gold against the purple sky, breathtaking in its glory. It reminded Victor of Yuri, earlier that night, standing outside the hotel. 

Besides him, Yuri let out a small yelp of surprise. Victor turned just in time to see Yuri hit the ground. Yuri blinked rapidly for a few moments, then squeezed his eyes shut. He covered them with the heels of his hands. 

“Yuri?” Victor asked. 

Yuri swore, quick and vicious, and then moved his hands away. He looked up at Victor lazily. “That hurt,” he said plainly. 

Victor let out a small hysterical laugh. “Are you alright?” 

Yuri spread his arms wide, content, it seemed, to lie on the cold ground for the time being. 

“I’m fine,” Yuri said after a second. “Just, sometimes the world goes funny on me and my balance gets not so great and I fall. It’s better than it used to be, but…ow.” 

“Do you need me to help you up?” Victor asked. 

“Give me a second,” Yuri replied. “I’m going to wait for it to stop.” 

Yuri turned his attention back to the sky. He hummed something quietly, it took Victor a second, but then he realized that it was one of the songs they had been dancing to at the restaurant. 

“I’ve never seen the stars,” Yuri said suddenly. 

Victor raised his brows in question. “What?” he asked. 

Yuri tilted his head so he could look at Victor. “I’ve never seen the stars,” he said again. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen them. I don’t remember them. I’ve seen pictures, but there’s too much light in Hasetsu to be able to see them, and I’ve never been able to see them anywhere else.” 

“Oh,” Victor said. 

“I want to though,” Yuri said. “They seem nice.” 

“They are.” 

Yuri opened his mouth to say something more, but then he reconsidered and closed it. He tilted his head back again. 

“I’ll take you,” Victor blurted. 

Yuri looked back at him, a question in his big brown eyes. 

“I’ll take you to see the stars after all of this,” Victor said. The words spilled over each other in a rush. Had he ever been this nervous before? Was this how Yuri used to feel all the time? How had he survived? 

“If you’d want to, that is,” Victor added. He bit his lip as he waited for Yuri to reply. 

Yuri smiled. He glanced back at the sky, and then again to Victor. “I’d like that,” he said softly. 

Victor nodded, as if it was decided. He would take Yuri to see the stars. He had no idea how he would do that, but because Yuri wanted to, he would. 

“I’m ready to get up now,” Yuri said. “If you’ll give me a hand.” 

Yuri held up his arm and Victor grabbed it, pulling Yuri to his feet. Yuri stumbled for a moment, he collided with Victor, close enough that Victor could feel the gentle huff of Yuri’s breath on his cheek, and then Yuri pulled away. He held onto Victor’s arm a moment longer, regaining his balance, and then he let go. Victor felt empty without the feel of Yuri leaning on him for support. He wished Yuri had held on a little longer. 

Yuri’s phone buzzed. “Maria again. She wants to know what I think of a poem she might have read at the wedding.” 

“Let’s hear it,” Victor said. 

Yuri chuckled to himself, but opened up the file. 

“The very first time I remember you,” he read, “you are blonde and don’t love me back. 

Victor closed his eyes and listened to the rhythm of the poem. He liked the sound of Yuri’s voice reading it. This was another one of those moments where he just wanted to hold it still and make it last forever. So long as Yuri was reading to him, life was good. 

“The next time you are brunette, and you do.” Yuri continued. “After a while I give up trying to guess if the color of your hair means anything.  
“because even if you don’t exist, I am always in love with you.  
“I remember most fondly those lifetimes where we get to grow up together,  
“when you share your secrets and sorrows and hiding places with me.  
“I love how you play along with my bad ideas,  
“before you grow up and realize they are bad ideas.  
“(And in our times together I have many bad ideas.)  
“When we meet as adults you’re always much more discerning. I don’t blame you.  
“Yet, always, you forgive me.  
“As if you understand what’s going on, and you’re making up for  
“all the lifetimes in which one of us doesn’t exist,  
“and the ones where we just, barely, never meet.  
“I hate those. I prefer the ones in which you kill me.  
“But when all’s said and done, I’d surrender to you in other ways.  
“Even though each time, I know I’ll see you again, I always wonder  
“is this the last time?  
“Is that really you?  
“And what if you’re perfectly happy  
“without me?  
“Ah, but I don’t blame you; I’ll never burn as brilliantly as you. It’s only fair  
“that I should be the one  
“to chase you across ten, twenty-five, a hundred lifetimes  
“until I find the one where you’ll return to me.” 

Yuri finished. Victor heard a click as Yuri closed out of the file and then the long rush of the air as Yuri took a deep breath and sighed through his nose. 

“That was pretty,” Victor said. “I like it.” 

“It’s nice,” Yuri conceded. 

Victor opened his eyes and looked over at Yuri. “You don’t like it?” he asked. 

Yuri scratched at the back of his head. His feet wandered forward. Victor followed. They started walking together again, Yuri intent on the sidewalk as he organized his thoughts. 

“I’ve never felt like I’m waiting for someone to return to me,” Yuri said after a while. “It’s more like, I don’t know. Like if I’m waiting for someone to return to.” 

Victor was fairly convinced at this point that his heart was not going to survive the night. 

“Really?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light and casual. 

Yuri looked up, chewed his lip, took in the winter palace as they went by. “After…after everything that happened with Séraphin…” 

No, he definitely wasn’t going to make it, if his heart kept stammering like this. 

“I just needed to get that entire experience off of me,” Yuri said. His nose crinkled in disgust. 

Victor couldn’t help himself; he laughed. Partly because of the look of utter revulsion on Yuri’s face, but mostly out of relief. So what if Yuri had slept with someone else? Clearly, the experience hadn’t been enjoyable. Victor still had that going for him at least. 

Yuri glanced over at him in surprise and then laughed too. “Well, it was kind of terrible,” he said defensively. 

Victor took a deep breath, tried to stop himself from laughing long enough to reply. 

“It’s not always like that,” he said, because he was thinking of all his times with Yuri, times that he knew Yuri didn’t remember, “if it makes any difference.” 

Yuri snorted. “I would hope it’s not.” 

They walked a few feet on in silence, considering the humor of what Yuri had experienced and done. 

“You were saying though?” Victor asked once the feeling wore off. “About returning to someone?” 

His heart had begun that frantic pitter-patter in his chest again. Did Yuri…remember something? Remember _him?_

“Right,” Yuri said. “So afterwards, when I was standing in the shower—” 

“It was so bad you felt compelled to take a _shower_?” Victor interrupted. Oh, this was getting better and better. His heart was practically flying. 

Yuri gave him a disapproving look and Victor schooled his features back into calm again. 

“Go on,” he said. 

“So, standing in the shower, wishing I could scrub my mind of the memory, something else came to me.” 

“What?” Victor asked. 

His heart had drifted back down to hear the story, but now it was considering fleeing out of fear. 

“Nothing much,” Yuri admitted. “More sensations than anything. Someone kissing me, the…the way it felt when he touched me. His hair falling through my fingers.” 

It took Victor a moment to remember how to breathe. 

“The Mystery Man,” he choked out, remembering the conversation Maria had had with Yuri earlier that night. 

Yuri nodded. “The Mystery Man,” he confirmed. “I’ve been wondering ever since where he is, why he hasn’t been with me through all of this.” 

Yuri paused for a moment. His voice, when he spoke again, was hushed and reverent. “If he loved me, and if I loved him, and if he’s waiting for me, somewhere, to come back home.” 

“Wouldn’t your family have told you?” Victor asked. 

Yuri’s eyes were distant. He shook his head. “I don’t think they would have. They’ve never mentioned anyone to me, anyways. I know I was supposed to move; there are boxes full of stuff in my room back home, and my sister said that’s what they were for, but…but she said I changed my mind and decided not to.” 

“You really think she would lie?” 

Yuri glanced at him. There was pain in his eyes, and betrayal. “She all but hid my ice skates from me, Victor,” he said. His voice was hoarse; there were tears shining in his eyes. “She put my athletic bag in a cabinet and told me to forget about it. No one would tell me about the ice rink; I had to find it on my own. When I say it’s like I’m under house arrest, _I mean it.”_

Victor opened his mouth to respond, but he didn’t have anything to say, so he closed it again. 

“But it doesn’t matter anymore,” Yuri said. His voice was controlled now, resolved, even. “I can’t…I can’t keep chasing after a past that I don’t remember, a past that doesn’t belong to me.” 

No. Yuri was not saying what Victor thought he was saying. He was not giving up. Not when Victor was right there, his Mystery Man. 

“Why not?” Victor asked. 

Yuri looked at Victor, his face set with determination. “Because…what if I find or I’ve found someone that I want. For me? I can’t…I can’t just keep waiting around and hope that someday I bump into the Mystery Man and hope that he hasn’t moved on too, or mistakes me for the person I used to be instead of the person I am now.” 

Was his heart still beating? It must be, because he was still standing here, looking at Yuri, listening to Yuri reject the past he didn’t know they had had together. Victor should just tell him, right now. He should tell Yuri what they had been to each other. That would solve everything, right? 

But Yuri was adamant that he was a different person now. He didn’t want to be tied to his past. He wanted to start over. If he knew what he and Victor had been, he might leave. Or worse, he might only stick around out of a sense of obligation. It was better not to tell him. And then, one day, if everything worked out the way Victor hoped, he would tell Yuri. But only once he knew that Yuri was his and wasn’t going to leave him. Only once he could be certain of that. 

Yuri chuckled to himself and Victor was pulled back to the moment. 

“No more memories,” Yuri said. He looked up at Victor. “I’m done with the past; it’s over, it’s dead, and it’s never coming back. I want to move on. I want to fall in love with someone new. I want to keep skating until I physically can’t keep up anymore. I want to make new friends who see me as me.” 

A quick, private smile in the darkness. 

“I want to see the stars.” 

“Okay,” Victor said. 

Yuri looked at him and nodded. “Okay,” he replied. 

Snow drifted down around them. Yuri tilted his head back, his face filled with wonder as it brushed his cheeks and stuck to his eyelashes. Victor’s heart ached with the beauty of it. Yuri had hated Petersburg before, and now he was standing in the middle of the city Victor loved, looking thunderstruck with the wonder of it. 

“I like snow,” Yuri said quietly. He closed his eyes. “I like to think it’s falling star stuff.” 

Victor considered making a joke about Yuri’s newfound obsession with the stars, but he decided against it. Better to stay in the moment, reveling silently in Yuri’s bliss. It wouldn’t be enough now, Victor knew, to just show Yuri the stars once. He would want to do it at every opportunity that he could. Just so he could crown Yuri with the stars and build him up with their light. 

Yuri opened up his eyes and looked over at Victor. “Like little kisses from the stars,” he confided. 

Victor’s heart sang. He tilted his head back so the snow could tickle his cheeks as well. 

“Little kisses from the stars,” he agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeeey, that's where the title comes from!  
> For those of you who are curious, I encountered that poem almost four years ago now and have had it saved in some capacity on my computer/phone ever since. It's called "25 Lives" and was written by Tongari. You can find a normal (i.e., a version that's _not_ riddled with quotation marks) [here](http://alighthouseofwords.tumblr.com/post/47941173293/25-lives-by-tongari).
> 
> Also, this is the instance that Muse and I have been alluding to that actually changed the way I see snow (especially when I'm out walking late at night). Muse likes the line enough that she wants to get it tattooed on her leg and if you try and tell me that's not writing goals, I _will_ fight you. 
> 
> Finally, I am a slut for Yuri being a slut for the stars because oh my God he would be.


	58. HMSG: Chapter 58

Victor put his poor performance in the free skate the next day down to two things. The first was his age. He was almost twenty-nine, now. He was old for a figure skater, and he knew it. It wasn’t necessarily something he liked to think about, but it was there. Simply put, he wasn’t able to keep up with the younger skaters who dominated the field these days. His body had limitations. Even if he hadn’t decided to keep going with Yakov because of the whole Yuri situation, this likely would have been his last season anyways. It was depressing, but that was the order of things. 

The second thing was Yuri. Not that Victor was upset about this. He had meant it when he told Yurio that he would go back to coaching Yuri after this season, assuming that Yuri would let him. Victor had a feeling that Yuri would though. There was something there now. Hope. Potential. And this time, Yuri clearly wouldn’t be too flustered. And Victor knew Yuri better too. He knew how not to scare Yuri off too easily. They might be able to make things work this time. Wherever Yuri wanted to go, whatever Yuri wanted to do, Victor knew he would happily follow. He never should have let Yuri leave that night. He never should have let Yuri sneak out so many nights, period. He should have done something. He was ready to do something differently now. 

The problem with being so focused on Yuri, however, and they hope that they might return to each other, was that Yuri consumed all of Victor’s thoughts. His mind had wandered off during the program. Just as he was getting ready to do a jump or a step sequence, he’d remember Yuri taking his hand and dancing with him the night before, Yuri tilting his head back to let the snow fall on his cheeks, Yuri looking up at Victor and saying he’d like it if Victor took him to see the stars. 

It wasn’t a terrible performance, all things considered. But Victor knew that it wouldn’t be enough to keep the lead, even if he was able to stave off the other skaters for a while. But Yurio would beat him. Maybe Yuri too. Victor was not surprised to find that he was perfectly okay with this. The only thing that mattered now was Yuri. He was all the gold Victor would ever need to kiss again. 

“I’m sorry,” Victor told Yakov as they left the kiss and cry. 

Yakov sighed. “I don’t think you are, really, Vitya.” 

“I love him,” Victor said simply. 

Yakov nodded. “You’ll go back to him after this season, then? Truly retire this time?” 

“I’m getting too old for this, anyways,” Victor said. “We both knew this was coming eventually.” 

A heavy sigh. Victor waited for Yakov to say something. To be angry. To ask him to stick around a little longer. Something. 

“You have grown so much from the boy you were when we met, Vitya,” Yakov said. There were tears in his eyes. He pulled Victor into a rough hug. 

“You have not been the easiest pupil,” Yakov said roughly, “but I am proud of how far you’ve come nonetheless.” 

Victor stood there, shocked, for a moment, then wrapped his arms around Yakov. “Thank you,” he said quietly. 

They pulled away. Victor went back to the warm-up room and retrieved his things. Yuri wasn’t there. Evidentially, he had wandered off again. He talked with Chris briefly. Went out and watched as the ice was finished being resurfaced and as Yurio skated to the center. Five seconds in, Victor knew that the younger boy would easily surpass his score. He did his best to remind himself that it was for the best. 

“Victor!” someone shouted. 

He turned. Yuuko ran up to him, eyes wide. Her phone was pressed to her ear. “I need you to go get Yuri! Takashi just called me—they all woke up to watch the finals and something happened and now Axel is in the emergency room getting stitches. I need you to go get Yuri while I try to get Takeshi to calm down and tell me what’s going on.” 

“Where—where is he?” Victor asked. 

Yuuko frowned, trying to remember. “I told Yakov that Yuri liked to warm up on his own and he pointed us to a room…I think it’s down the hallway, second door on the right? I’m not sure, but I don’t want Yuri to be late for the skate,” she laughed nervously. “I have to admit I’m not very good at this.” 

Victor did his best to give her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Thank you,” she mouthed as she returned her attention back to her phone. “Takashi, I understand there’s a lot of blood…” 

She turned away. Victor slipped through the doors that led out of the rink and down the hall. He found the indicated door and looked inside. Sure enough, there was Yuri, completely oblivious to the outside world, sitting on the floor stretching. He had grown a lot since last year, Victor realized. And maybe part of that was everything he had been through, but still. Victor pushed open the door. Yuri glanced up, pulled an earbud out of one ear. He tilted his head in a silent question. 

“Yuuko sent me to get you. She was on the phone with Takashi.” 

“Nothing too serious, I hope?” Yuri asked. He sounded genuinely concerned. Victor made an executive decision. Yuri needed to stay focused. 

“No,” he replied. “Just another day in the life, it sounded like. Are you ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be,” Yuri said with a smile. He pulled himself to his feet and swayed precariously. Victor grabbed his arm just in time to keep him from falling. He could hear the heavy sound of Yuri’s breathing. 

“Are you alright?” Victor asked. If Yuri’s balance was this bad and he wasn’t even on the ice… 

Yuri was still smiling, but it was strained. “I have a little headache, but it doesn’t matter. It’s hardly anything. I’m fine, really,” he said. “Besides, ready or not, alright or not, this is happening.” 

And that was it. Topic closed. Yuri would do this because he had no other choice. Victor could see the resolve in his former fiancé’s eyes, as overwhelming as it had been just a year ago when Yuri had sworn to get gold this year. There was no doubt in Victor’s mind now, nor had there been then, that Yuri would do it. Victor bent down and grabbed Yuri’s athletic bag. He swung it over his shoulder. 

“You can lean on me, if you want,” he said. 

Yuri nodded, and he looked relieved. He threaded his arm through Victor’s, and with his free hand, put his earbud back in. Victor watched as he scrolled through his music and chose a song. 

“What are you doing?” Victor asked. 

Yuri glanced up at him, then back at his phone. “Going through everything one last time.” 

He hit play and closed his eyes. Victor watched him for a moment, then slowly led Yuri out of the room. Yuri leaned on him, his grip on Victor’s elbow tightening and loosening as he adjusted for the shortcomings of his balance. With his free hand, he acted out part of what Victor was sure was part of the choreography for his free program. Victor had never seen it. He still hadn’t been able to bring himself to play the video. 

Yuri followed Victor blindly. He kept his eyes closed as he mapped out what he would have to do in his mind. Victor spared him a glance every now and then. He looked calm, but full of conviction. Yuri had already lost so much; it was plain that he wasn’t going to let himself lose this too. 

They came to the doors leading to the rink. As Victor pushed them open, he reflected that this was how it was supposed to be; him leading Yuri into the arena so he could show the world the program that was sure to finally win him gold. This was what Victor wanted, for as long as Yuri would let him have it. The two of them, supporting each other and coming out on top because of it. 

If anyone thought that this was significant, Victor and Yuri reunited, no one commented on it. Victor was secretly thankful. He was still determined not to tell Yuri about their history until later, if he could help it. He didn’t want to lose Yuri again. And one day, maybe Yuri would remember on his own, and he would ask, but that day hadn’t come yet, and Victor was sure that he would have plenty of time to build up his relationship with Yuri before then. They would be okay. This would be okay. Everything would be okay. 

Yurio was finishing. Yuri’s eyes were still closed, music still in. Victor tapped him on the shoulder, and Yuri looked up him. Inches away. Victor was overwhelmingly tempted to kiss him. He pulled free one of the earbuds instead, allowing himself the thrill of brushing his fingers against Yuri’s ear. These small wonders, that was what he looked forward to now. Especially when Yuri’s breath just barely caught in response like that. 

“You’re next,” Victor said. 

Yuri looked onto the ice just as Yurio finished his spin and stopped. He nodded. 

“I can do this,” he said. 

“I know,” Victor replied. 

Yuri smiled at him and it was better than all of the gold medals in the world. Victor wanted to say something more, but everything else just felt fake. Good luck? I believe in you? None of it felt right. He stood by as Yuri unzipped his familiar grey Japan jacket. He took both that and Yuri’s phone when Yuri handed them to him. He wrapped the earbuds around the device and stuck it in his pocket. He’d give it to Yuri afterwards. 

Victor waited, half hoping that Yuri would throw his arms around Victor, anything, as Yuri got ready to go onto the ice. But then Yuri was getting the signal and he was slipping through the barrier and heading for the center and all Victor had to show for the service he had just rendered were Yuri’s things piled neatly in his arms. 

“Is he alright?” Yuuko asked, coming up beside him. 

Victor looked down at her. He wondered, for a moment, whether Axel had really had an accident. He had met the triplets, and he wouldn’t put it past them, but for Yuuko to give him this, these last minutes with Yuri right before his free program and only come now that Yuri was gone… 

“He said he had a little headache—barely anything, but he was fine.” 

Yuuko pressed her mouth in a tight line. “I just hope it stays that way.” 

“What do you mean?” Victor asked. 

Yuuko sighed heavily. “With Yuri, little headaches tend to turn into big headaches tend to turn into him lying on the floor or holding his head in his hands trying to make the world stand still.” 

“It’s that bad?” Victor asked. 

“He describes it as tilt-a-whirl at it’s worse,” Yuuko said quietly. 

Yakov and Yurio came and silently joined he and Yuuko along the wall. 

“Moment of truth,” Yuuko said. 

“He can do it,” Yakov said firmly. “I have been watching. He is very good.” 

Victor looked at Yurio, waiting for the younger boy to object, but he didn’t say anything. His expression was just as firm as Yuri’s had been moments ago. Victor turned back to watch Yuri on the ice. He could have teased Yurio, he knew, but now wasn’t the right time. It would begin any moment now…


	59. HMSG: Chapter 59

Yuri reached the center of the ice. He was barely standing up straight, but he had meant what he had said to Victor earlier. He didn’t have a choice; it didn’t matter how he felt, he had to do this. His headache was getting worse every second too. Five minutes. In less than five minutes, he would be off the ice and sitting down again. He could make it. He had to. 

He spun to get into position and took a deep breath. He could do this. He could do this. He tried not to think of the brush of Victor’s fingers on his neck, or the way it had felt to hold onto Victor’s arm and lean into Victor’s warmth. He needed to focus on skating right now. He had done the math last night. The routine would have to be a lot harder than the one he had been planning on, but… 

He could do this. He could do this. 

He closed his eyes and took another deep breath. When he opened them again, he wasn’t in the arena in St. Petersburg, he was back on the ice in Hasetsu, and it waited patiently to begin a dialogue with him beneath his feet. 

He could do this. He could do this. 

The music started, and Yuri lost himself to it. 

OOO

The [music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=74S7EMUAKFs) began slowly, with one short dramatic note. Yuri didn’t so much as start with the music as fall into it. There was a short instrumental bit and then the lyrics began. Yuri became the music, he made it with his body. It was one of the most beautiful and haunting things Victor had ever heard. 

“He looks like he’s going to a funeral,” Victor said. 

Yuuko looked at him sadly. “That’s the point,” she said. “To bury himself.” 

Yuri was moving through every step effortlessly. He jumped, but it was only a triple toe loop. It was like if he was holding back, still. Victor’s heart sank. Maybe this wouldn’t be the year after all. Maybe Yuri couldn’t skate at the level he once had. He still continued to enrapture the audience, however, with the story he told in his skating. His loss was tangible. It stopped being something that isolated him and became something they all felt with him. 

“He’s going to have to do better if he wants to win,” Yurio said savagely. “He’s not even going to beat Victor right now.” 

Yuuko sucked on her lip. “Wait for it, she said quietly.” 

“He’s right,” Yakov said. “Where are the jumps? What is he doing?” 

“Wait for it,” Yuuko insisted. “He has a plan.” 

“What sort of plan?” Victor asked as a long chiming instrumental section began. 

“A plan where he had a high enough score to beat you, had you been skating your best today,” Yuuko said, meeting Victor’s eyes. 

Victor sucked in a breath. He had a feeling, as he had last night listening to Maria talk to Yuri, that he knew where this was going. 

“That’s insane,” he insisted. 

“He can do it,” Yuuko argued back. 

“How many?” 

Yuuko stayed silent. The chiming continued. 

“How many, Yuuko?” he asked again. 

“Five,” she whispered. 

“All in the second half?” He asked, have hoping it wasn’t true. 

She gave a short nod. 

“What’s going on?” Yurio demanded. 

Victor laughed hoarsely and turned his attention back to the ice. The music was starting to swell to a climax. Yuri looked like he was about to start crying. Around them, the audience was on the edge of their seats, pulled into the emotion of the program. 

“He’s milking the one point one multiplier for all it’s worth,” Victor said. It was insane. It was impossible. Yuri would never pull it off. It was—it was the kind of thing that he, Victor, would have done if he had the stamina for it. 

Yuri must have done the math. Must have counted on Victor having a perfect day, and then accounted for the fact that Yurio may just surpass even a perfect score from Victor. And he had come up with a plan that would shoot him past them both, a plan that played to the fact that he knew he could probably outlast every other skater in the Finals series. Distantly, Victor could remember telling Yuri last year that he had great stamina, and now here Yuri was, using that to his best advantage. 

The singer—Maria, Victor realized—demanded to know why the past couldn’t just die. Yuri didn’t so much jump as get thrown into the air by the ice. A perfect quad loop, followed up by a triple Salchow. He was _insane._ He was actually crying now, but not in pain, clearly. From what he had lost. The audience held its breath. Victor held his with them. If Yuri succeeded… 

OOO

This was hard. This was really, really hard. What had he been _thinking?_ Yuri came around the corner, trying to build up his strength before the next set of jumps. Five quads. In the second half. With bad balance and what was likely building to be the worst headache he’d ever had. He couldn’t do this. There was no way. There just wasn’t. He wasn’t going to make it. Another quad, a Lutz this time. The ice threw him up and caught him on the way back down. He didn’t shake. He trusted. His breathing was getting heavier and his legs were starting to ache but 

He could do this. He had to. 

Maria was giving him strength to do this. She wasn’t there, but this was her voice, her music giving voice to his pain and loss. Theia’s arrangement wrapping itself around his bones and muscles to keep them strong when he just wanted to give in. The ice threw him up in the air for the third quad, a flip. 

_This is it,_ Yuri thought. _I’m not going to make it down cleanly._

The ice grabbed his skate again and held. He didn’t stumble or lose his footing. He kept going. Two combos now, each with one quad. 

He could do this. He had to. The ice talked to him, guided him, showed him how to move, and Yuri listened. 

OOO

The next series of jumps had to be the most intense set that Victor had ever seen. And all of them landed perfectly. It was as if Yuri’s brief moments of dizziness earlier had never happened. The crowd was on its feet now. No one had ever done anything like this before, after all. This was more of a surprise than anything Victor had managed to do in his career. It was awe-inspiring. It was better than anything Victor had ever dreamed Yuri could do. And beyond that, it was heartbreakingly beautiful. It was the kind of program that only Yuri would have been able to do; it would have been dead in anyone else’s hands. 

The music grew gentler; Yuri came back to the center of the ice in a perfect set of ever shrinking circles. He spun and spun and spun. And then it was over. Just like that, it was done. Victor knew. Yurio knew. Everyone knew. The gold would go to Yuri, after a skate like that. He might even set a new world record, and from something like that…it would hold for _years._

A tear splattered onto the back of Victor’s hand. Somewhere in there, he had started crying as hard as Yuri had. He watched as Yuri fell to the ice. He had to be dead, after a program like that. No one in their right mind would have dared tried a program as rigorous as that. Victor was vaguely aware of the audience erupting into applause around them, but he was solely focused on Yuri. Yuri, who was pulling himself up off the ice, Yuri, who looked so completely wretched, tears still streaming down his face, Yuri, who was slowly but surely coming back to them. 

Yuri didn’t even try to step through the gates. He just collided against them to stop himself. Victor wanted to grab onto him but…he wasn’t Yuri’s fiancé anymore. He stood by as Yuri leaned over the wall to collapse into Yuuko’s arms. He was still sobbing. Yuuko held onto him tightly for a long moment. 

“I know,” she said quietly. She was crying too. “I know.” 

Yuri pulled away and wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand. He held onto the edge of the barrier with a white knuckled grip with the other. 

“With feeling,” Yuri hiccuped. 

Yuuko laughed, but it was stained with tears. “Exactly.” 

He sniffed. “I’m ready to let it all go, Yuuko-chan,” he said. “I don’t want to hold onto any of that anymore, and I don’t want anyone else to either.” 

Yuuko reached up and ran a hand through Yuri’s hair. She let it rest on his cheek. Yuri held onto it. 

“Okay,” she said. 

Yuri gave her hand a tight squeeze and then pulled away. They let him through the barrier. Victor watched as Yuuko wrapped an arm around Yuri’s back and led him to the kiss and cry. That should have been him. It should have been him that had held onto Yuri as Yuri cried over his loss and finally accepted it enough to let it go. Yakov stood by him on one side. Yurio on the other. 

“It is like I said,” Yakov commented. “He is very good.” 

“One of the best in the world,” Yurio said firmly. Victor glanced down at him, but didn’t say anything. 

_What role did Yurio play in all of this?_ He wondered, again, to himself. 

Yakov gave a sharp nod. “Indeed.” 

The scores came in. Yuri had shattered the record that Yurio had come so close to breaking. The audience once again went wild. Yuri was getting the gold he so deserved. Victor’s heart ached for everything these moments should have been. He should’ve been the one that Yuri leaned to cry on as the news came in. He should have been the one wrapping his arms around Yuri and smiling proudly. But he was a stranger, even if he and Yuri had spent the night walking through the streets of St. Petersburg together, so he stood by and watched the happy moment from the outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muse says she likes this scene better when she listens to the music, so I added it for you guys. :)
> 
> Something to note: officially speaking, "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again" is not originally long enough for a free program skate (which has to be between 4 minutes, 20 seconds and 4 minutes, 40 seconds) so I always imagined that Theia made the instrumental section a little longer and that Maria held notes to let her beautiful voice really show. 
> 
> ~~and if my obsession with accuracy doesn't show you how OCD I am with my writing, I don't know what will~~


	60. HMSG: Chapter 60

When Yuri had come off the ice, his head had begun a slow, dull pound that he knew was prelude to something far worse. It took all of his focus just to stand up and keep his balance after the scores came in and he and Yuuko-chan had to leave the kiss and cry. Even as it felt like his brain was slowly getting torn apart, it also felt as though someone were trying to force it into a tiny box. It was easily one of the most excruciating headaches Yuri had ever had, and he knew that it was only getting started. When Yuuko-chan asked him if he was alright, however, he waved her off. If there was ever a time when he didn’t want to be held back by the vestiges of his accident, it was now. He should be basking in the glory of the moment, not hiding in the corner. 

When it was time for the awards ceremony, Yuri skated onto the ice and made his bows. The crowd was cheering, but Yuri was too concerned with not falling apart that he didn’t really hear them. It was too much, all of this. He couldn’t do this. He could feel himself slowly getting crushed by the mounting pressure that was spreading from his brain across his body. Yurio, and then Victor, joined him on the podium. He didn’t try and talk to them, although he vaguely recognized that they were speaking. No way was he going to make it. No way. 

When the official came, however, Yuri planted himself, adjusted his stance so he would have a firm footing, and leaned forward so the gold medal could be draped around his neck. He almost fell when he stood back up and the world tilted backwards. He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. He had made it this far. Just a little bit longer and then he would be in the clear. He could find some quiet corner and force the world back to order later. 

Yuri took the flowers they handed him with numb hands. He saw Yuuko-chan motioning, so he raised them above his head. She smiled and snapped a picture. He wondered if she could see how absolutely not okay he was. The world had started a slow spin. He needed to get out of there _now,_ or he was going to fall off the podium. It wasn’t just a question of ‘if’ anymore. It was a matter of ‘when.’ 

The national anthem started playing. Flags were lowered. Yuri tried to take deep breaths to steady himself. He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was standing in a different arena, on a different podium. Tears prickling at the backs of his eyes. He glanced around. The world shifted back to the way it had been. Yurio standing below him, scowling, but waving to the crowd. Blink. 

Another shift. He was standing where Yurio was, and Yurio was where he had been. An announcer was saying something but he didn’t hear it. His head was _killing_ him. He stumbled a little. Yurio was looking at him funny, back in the proper moment. He said something but Yuri didn’t hear it. 

Memories. He was remembering. 

Another blink and his gold ring was back on his finger. A figure that looked like Victor stood at the other end of the arena, watching the ceremony and looking sad. His heart ached. No, it was his head, and he was back in the moment. He couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t going to make it. 

The anthem ended. He got off the podium as quickly as he could. The officials directed them and Yuri did as he was told. He forced himself to skate around the rink. To smile and look fine for the photos. Just a few more minutes. Just a few more. 

His heart beat out that he could make it even as his head told an opposing story. He thought he heard Victor say his name and Yurio ask if he was alright. He didn’t trust himself to nod, so he mumbled out something that might have been a yes. 

If he was lucky, they would just think he was in shock about winning. 

And then it was over and he was coming off the ice. He slipped away before anyone could try to corner him. He needed to get out of the skates he loved so dearly so he could stand more firmly on his feet. He needed to sit down. The world was starting to make great and wild sways right and left and back and forth now. It was a miracle that he was still standing at all. 

“Yuri?” 

Yuuko-chan was standing right over him, her mouth right next to his ear. Yuri doubted he would have heard her if she hadn’t been so close. His mind, when it wasn’t seeing the ever-spinning world, was flashing back to other moments. 

He was standing, hands on Victor’s shoulders, Victor looking up him with wide eyes rimmed with tears. 

He was here and now, trying to pull his skates off with fumbling hands. 

He was in the rink, about to skate, locking hands with Victor, admiring their matching rings. 

One skate gone, one foot free, he started on the other. 

He was coming to a stop on the center of the ice, pressing his lips against the ring in a silent prayer. 

In the arena, the world tilted precariously forward. Yuri paused for a moment to grab onto the bench to keep himself forward. Yuuko-chan said his name, sounding alarmed. 

He had just stepped outside the arena. It had been a long night, but he made it through. Next year would be gold. Victor glanced over and kissed him. “I’m proud of you,” he said, “and I love you.” 

The memory was gone. The moment came slamming back into Yuri was stunning clarity. For the time being, everything was still. He was back in the arena. Both skates were off, sitting down in his stocking feet. He leaned his head forward into his hands, gulping down breaths. 

“Yuri…?” Yuuko-chan asked again. 

Victor. He needed to find Victor. 

Yuri pulled his head out of his hands. The world tilted backwards again, but he was held steady with his new purpose. Why hadn’t Victor…? 

He couldn’t see Victor around the arena. Maybe he was in the hall? It was the work of the second to be on his feet again. 

“Yuri!” Yuuko-chan said more firmly. 

But what did she matter? He needed to find Victor. Victor was his… 

He slipped through the crowd. People lauded him, but he didn’t stop to chat. Victor. That’s all that mattered right now. It took Yuri too long to get to the doors, but he did eventually. The world was starting to swing again, but he did his best to put it out of his mind. He needed to find Victor. He slipped through, and there the man was. Walking away, head bowed, beautiful silver hair dusting the nape of his neck. Yurio besides him, gesturing widely, about what, Yuri had no idea. He picked up his pace. 

“Victor!” he shouted. 

Ahead of him, Victor hesitated, looked back. Would he stop? 

“Victor!” Yuri cried again. He was running now. Victor stopped, looked back at him, face a picture of uncertainty. 

The world tilted steeply to the right and Yuri stumbled a little, but didn’t stop, couldn’t stop now, when he had come so far and was so close. 

“Victor,” Yuri said again as he collided with the other man, his…his… 

“Yuri,” Victor said. “Yuri are you—” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yuri asked. Wept? He was crying. When had he started crying? 

Victor sucked in a breath. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yuri asked again. 

In the darkness, he ran through the streets of Hasetsu. He recognized them from his many unchaperoned forays into the town. He was heading towards the train station. He knew this because his feet had taken him there many times before. 

In the moment, Yuri stumbled. Victor grabbed onto his arm. His breath washed over Yuri in a pleasant sort of way. Yuri grabbed Victor’s arm with a white-knuckle grip. He was falling—or was the fall still coming? It was hard to say which. 

In the darkness, Yuri’s heart pounded out _home, home, home_ and his mind sang a song that was all Victor. He was going back to Victor. 

He slipped and Victor grabbed his other arm. Yuri grabbed onto Victor in kind, though he didn’t really think about it. It was more an instinctive movement. Was he here, or on the streets of Hasetsu, warm summer air pushing against his face? It was hard to say for certain. Were those Victor’s eyes swimming in front of his own? 

Someone was saying his name, but he was running, listening to the soft thud as his feet hit the pavement. 

In the darkness, his toe snagged on the edge of the sidewalk. It felt like he had hit something. He struggled to right himself, but his shoelaces, so carelessly tied, had come undone and tangled in his feet. He was thrown forward and into the night. 

Somewhere, he thought he heard someone saying his name. But that was impossible; he was alone. 

“Victor,” he gasped out. He was holding onto something, or at least he thought he was. 

He landed with a crash on the sidewalk. There had been a little flight of steps he’d gone over. His head connected with the sidewalk and his momentum threw his skates forward to collide with the base of his skull. The tips dug into the soft spot where his head met his neck. 

His phone. That was what he had been holding onto. It was gone now. Where had it gone? Was something cutting into his cheek? His glasses? 

“Victor,” Yuri breathed again. 

“Yuri,” he heard Yurio say blandly from his phone. 

“Yuri,” he heard Victor say in the dark corners of his mind. 

His head hit the pavement again and again and again. His skates hit his skull again and again and again. 

It was too much; it was all too much. Yuri didn’t fight as the darkness overtook him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie, I laughed like a villain as I posted this.


	61. HMSG: Chapter 61

“Yuri,” Victor said hoarsely as Yuri went limp in his arms. “Yuri stay with me, please Yuri. Please.” 

Yuri’s eyes had closed. Not even moving anymore, seeing something that Victor couldn’t, as they had been a moment before. But he was breathing. Yuri was still breathing. It felt like a ridiculous thing to grab onto—of course Yuri would still be breathing—but Victor held onto it as tightly as he held onto Yuri. 

“Victor?” he heard Yurio ask behind him. 

“Victor!” someone screamed down the hallway. It might have been Yuuko. Victor had settled onto the floor, Yuri still in his arms. He ran a hand across Yuri’s forehead, down his cheek. 

“Yuri,” he said again. “Please.” 

Was he crying? He might have been. His throat felt really thick. 

“Victor is he okay?” Yurio asked. 

“Get help,” Victor croaked. 

How could this actually be happening? It couldn’t have been more than an hour ago he’d been imagining being with Yuri again, being Yuri’s coach again. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to tell himself that this was all just a bad dream, that all of it had been just a convoluted nightmare and when he opened his eyes again, he’d be lying in bed with Yuri wrapped around him like an extra blanket. 

When Victor opened his eyes, the nightmare was still happening. Yurio was standing by, looking incredibly vulnerable for once. 

“Call an ambulance!” Victor shouted at him. 

“Victor!” Yuuko appeared next to him. “Victor what happened. Is he…?” 

Victor blinked at her. He was looking at her, but he wasn’t seeing her. There were two Victor’s; one who was holding onto Yuri, another who was standing separate from this scene, watching everything unfold. 

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “He kept on asking me why I didn’t tell him.” 

He was definitely crying now. 

“And then he just…” he pattered off. Yuuko could see what had happened to Yuri. 

“Oh, Victor,” she said quietly. 

“They’re on their way,” Yurio said. He was still standing there, still looking lost. Victor wasn’t really seeing him either. 

In a moment, he would wake up and Yuri would be wrapped around him like an extra blanket. 

He brushed his hand through Yuri’s hair again. “Stay with me,” he said quietly. 

It felt like only seconds later that the paramedics arrived. They pulled Yuri from Victor’s arms, firmly telling him to let go. Numb, Victor did as he was told. He followed them out into the snow, and he was just about to follow them into the back of the ambulance when they stopped him. 

“Sir, you can follow in a car.” 

The paramedic’s eyes were suspicious. Victor opened his eyes to tell them that he was Yuri’s fiancé and that he deserved to stay with him, that he _needed_ to stay with him, but then Yurio was there. 

“Victor can speak Japanese. And he knows all about this guy. Bring him with. You’ll need him.” 

“Fine,” the paramedic said. “Get in.” 

Victor pulled himself up after the gurney that held Yuri. He barely had time to mouth ‘thank you’ to Yurio before the doors slammed shut. The paramedics were chattering in the background, but Victor wasn’t listening to them. His main focus was Yuri. He reached over and snagged Yuri’s hand, held it tight. 

_Stay with me,_ Victor pleaded silently. 

“Sir, your friend didn’t tell us much on the phone, we need—” 

“Katsuki Yuri. Twenty-five years old—” Victor rattled off mechanically. 

God, he had almost managed to forget that he had missed Yuri’s birthday. He had been planning on doing something special, but the opportunity was wasted now. 

“Good health—he’s a professional skater,” Victor continued without pausing. “He’s from Hasetsu, Saga Prefecture, Japan. Blood type A. He—” 

Victor’s voice broke. He took a deep breath. It was hard, but he could do this. 

“He had an accident this summer, late June, early July. He was in a coma for five days. He suffered from severe amnesia and balance problems when he woke up. And severe headaches. He still has problems with all three.” 

“What kind of accident?” The paramedic asked. He was relaying all this to the hospital, Victor knew. He forced himself to swallow back his tears. He could do this. 

To make sure Yuri would be okay, he could do this. 

“Head force trauma, I think. No one’s really certain how it happened. He was alone. They found him later.” 

“Do you know his primary physician?” 

Victor shook his head. Funny, the things that never come up when you’re engaged to someone. Or maybe it had, and he’d been too focused on the finer aspects of Yuri. 

“Will he be alright?” Victor choked out. He met the eyes of the paramedic. 

The man looked guarded. 

“We’ll see,” he said tightly. 

Victor tried to tell himself they weren’t trying to terrify him and held onto Yuri’s hand a little tighter. He wasn’t planning on ever letting go again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the comments! Besides the fact that getting to hear from you always makes my day a whole lot brighter, I'm #stillsick, so it _**really**_ made my day today. You're all wonderful and I in no way deserve you. 
> 
> Thank you for sticking around, even when I'm terrible >:)


	62. TTToF: Chapter 62

## Part Six: The Tangled Threads of Fate

A siren was blaring. It didn’t just ring distantly, it enveloped every corner of his being. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. The alarm was still there. Faces crowded the space above him. Someone shouted something in a language he didn’t understand, but it sounded familiar. 

Pressure on his hand. A squeeze. Someone reached out, ran their fingers through his hair and brought them to a rest on his cheek. The most beautiful blue eyes he’d ever seen appeared above him. He knew those eyes. 

Victor. 

“Yuri,” Victor said. “You need to stay awake, okay? Keep your eyes open. We’re nearly there.” 

What? Where were they going? 

It took Yuri a moment to process everything. Were they in an ambulance? Hadn’t they just been in the rink? What had happened? 

Yuri’s eyes drifted around the ambulance, at all the faces he didn’t recognize. None of this was making any sense. But… 

He found Victor’s eyes again. He squeezed Victor’s hand. Yuri nodded. If Victor asked him to, he would keep his eyes open, no matter how hard it was. Victor smiled, and that was all Yuri needed to anchor himself in this world.


	63. TTToF: Chapter 63

Victor held onto Yuri’s hand for the rest of the ride. He kept his hand pressed to Yuri’s cheek too, although some of the paramedics threw him dirty looks. Every now and then, when it was looking like Yuri was going to give in again and close his eyes, Victor would squeeze Yuri’s hand, say Yuri’s name, and Yuri would focus on him again and nod. A silent promise to hold on a little longer.

It felt like an eternity before they reached the hospital. When they did, the nurses tried to tell him off, but the paramedics told them to let Victor stay. They knew that Victor was the only way they were keeping Yuri awake and in the present. And Victor was the only one who knew how to talk to Yuri. 

Yuri’s eyes started closing again as they rushed down the hallway, nurses flying around like hummingbirds. 

“Yuri,” Victor warned. 

“Hard,” Yuri said quietly. 

“I know, _lyubov,_ ” Victor said. “I know.” 

Eventually, they shooed him off. Victor stood in the hallway for a moment, watching the door they had retreated through with Yuri. He felt so empty. What was he if not the person who belonged at Yuri’s side? Especially at a time like this. He slid his hands into the pockets of his warm-up jacket. The doctors would know what to do. Yuri would be alright. He needed to trust them. He needed… 

His fingers brushed against something round and metal in his pocket. He pulled it out. 

His ring. The one that Yuri had given him. In all of the madness, he’d forgotten that he had put it there this morning. He had carried it with him in his wallet since Yuri had left, unwilling to part with it, terrified that if he did, he’d never find it again. And this morning, he had wanted to make sure that he would have it even closer. Because it was, first and foremost, a good luck charm. It only meant something more because he had wanted it to. Because when he thought of being lucky, he thought of finding Yuri. 

He slid it onto his finger, stared down at the bright gold band, wondering at the perfection that it had been in his pocket this entire time, and, without thinking of it, he had reached in a grabbed it. He needed to feel lucky right now. He needed to feel loved, and tied to Yuri even as the world tried to throw them farther and farther apart. Gold never tarnished, and his love for Yuri never would either. They would get through this. They would be okay. Everything was going to be okay. He turned and walked back down the hall towards the entrance and waiting room. It didn’t feel like defeat to come this way; it felt like an act of faith. Yuri would be okay. He would be okay. They would make it through this. 

The waiting room was a jolt back to reality. The hospital corridors had been by no means silent, but it had been muted. Whatever noise they had contained was impersonal. If it wasn’t about Yuri, it didn’t matter. But the waiting room…the waiting room demanded to be noticed. Babies were crying. Kids were crowding around. A very upset Japanese woman was yelling at a very flustered Russian nurse. She was not conceding to speak English. Victor sighed and walked over. 

“Yuuko,” he said quietly. 

Yuuko spun on him. “Victor!” she shouted. She threw her arms around him. Victor leaned into the embrace. This—being held, being reminded that he wasn’t alone in this, that was another thing he needed right now. 

Yuuko pulled away, but still held onto his arms. They were the same age, just about, but maternal instincts won out. 

“Victor, they won’t tell me anything.” 

“Probably because you won’t speak English with them,” Victor said gently. 

Yuuko waved this sentiment away. “I’m too emotional for English. If they were smart, they’d send for a translator.” 

“That can’t be easy to find right now.” 

“It’s a big city,” Yuuko objected. “And this is supposed to be a good hospital. They should be able to do anything.” 

“Do you want me to talk to her?” Victor asked. 

Yuuko slumped with relief. “That would be wonderful.” 

Victor walked over to the desk. Yurio was sulking nearby, glaring at the plant. 

“You couldn’t help?” Victor asked. 

Yurio shrugged, but he didn’t say anything. He looked like he was trying very hard to keep his face composed. He sniffed loudly, and it occurred to Victor that Yurio was trying not to cry. Victor took a deep breath. People were relying on him. He could do this. 

“Excuse me?” He asked the nurse. 

She smiled at him, relieved, it seemed, not only that he had managed to calm down Yuuko, but also that he spoke Russian. 

“How can I help you?” she asked. 

“There was a patient that was just brought in,” Victor said. “Katsuki Yuri. He’s twenty-five years old. I was wondering if you could give us any information about him.” 

The nurse hesitated. “I can only talk to immediate family members.” She said. “That’s what I was trying to tell your friend earlier. Is she his sister?” 

Victor hesitated. If this was the only way to get information on Yuri… 

“Yes,” he said, “she’s his sister.” 

The nurse looked at Victor suspiciously. Clearly, he had hesitated too long. 

“And I’m his husband,” Victor added, gesturing to himself, making sure that she could see the ring. 

Her mouth dropped. “We…we don’t…” she stuttered. 

Funny, how one could ignore the homophobia of one’s own country and blatantly disregard the law until one was confronted with the reality of it. 

“I expatriated,” Victor said blandly. 

The nurse sniffed delicately. “Fine,” she said. 

“If you’ll just come over here then, sir. I’ll do my best to help you.” 

The nurse told Victor everything that she could and answered every question that Victor could think to ask. Yuri, it seemed, would be fine. The doctors were running tests and while the results hadn’t exactly been excellent, they had been expected. The doctors could do something about this. Yuri would probably get better. She told Victor a lot of medical jargon that was beyond his understanding. His mind had caught on that one piece of information—that Yuri would probably be fine—and stayed there. That was all that really mattered. 

When their little conference was over, Victor wandered back over to the corner that Yurio had led Yuuko too. Yuuko was rambling to him, but Yurio was staring despondently at the ground. A man was sitting in the chair next to Yuuko, his son beside him. The son’s arm was wrapped up in a sling. Sprained, or maybe even broken, but nothing the doctors couldn’t fix. 

“Yuri’s going to be fine,” Victor said when he reached them. 

Yuuko said something that might have been a prayer in Japanese. Victor was getting too tired to try and translate. He slumped down on the coffee table across from them and rubbed his face with his hands. He was so tired. Not from skating, although he usually slept for hours after competitions, but from the night, from the last six months. He remembered Yurio collapsing onto his bed, saying that he was tired from life. If there was ever a time when Victor could relate to that statement, it was now. 

“I have to go home,” Yuuko said numbly. 

Victor glanced at her. “What?” 

“I…I was talking with Yuri before we came, and he said he was fine navigating everything to get home from Sapporo and we wanted to surprise him because we all knew he was going to win, so my flight home is booked for tomorrow morning. Red eye.” 

“You can rebook,” Yurio said. 

“Don’t have the money,” Yuuko replied. “Besides, Axel was just in the emergency room too and everyone deserves to know what’s going on with Yuri and to be told in person, so…” 

“We’ll keep an eye on him,” Victor said. “Go back to the hotel, Yuuko. Pack. Go home. I’ll call you if anything happens.” 

Yuuko gave him a weak smile. “It feels wrong to leave,” she said. 

Victor gave her an answering smile. “I know,” he replied. 

Yuuko was quiet for a couple of minutes. Yurio continued to study the ground. Victor surveyed the waiting room. He was bad at sitting still in the best of times. This felt like his own particular ring of hell. 

Eventually, Yuuko stood up. She gave Victor a fierce hug, which he returned half-heartedly, and then gave one to Yurio, who didn’t even move. Victor watched as she swallowed and wiped tears from her eyes. 

“Anything happens,” she said. 

“We’ll call.” Victor finished. 

She gave a firm nod, and then walked out, looking as proud and strong as ever. When she was gone, Victor crossed the small aisle and collapsed into her chair. He wanted to sleep for an age, but if he fell asleep now, he might miss out on any news about Yuri. He felt like crying a little bit still, but his eyes were dry. A dull headache was starting to throb near his hairline. He was so tired. It was just so much to deal with in a short span of time. How could anyone be expected to deal with all of this? 

“You can go back if you want,” Victor mumbled to Yurio. 

“I’m staying as long as you are,” Yuri mumbled back. 

They sat together in silence for a long time. Hospital waiting rooms smelled weird. The father and his son drifted away. No one replaced them. Characters waltzed in and out. Victor tried to decide if he felt sick enough to actually throw up. His headache continued. Yurio blinked sleepily. Stretched. Continued to stare at the same patch of carpet. 

Waiting sucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **How this scene went down:**  
>  Me, typing: "...Eventually, they shooed him off..."  
> Victor: My ring's in my pocket.  
> *pause* *stop typing*  
> Me: What?  
> Victor: My ring's in my pocket.  
> Me: Are you kidding me right now?  
> Victor: No, I put in there this morning. I wanted to feel closer to Yuri. Normally, I just keep it in my wallet, but today, I had a feeling I'd need it.  
> Me: Seriously?  
> Victor: Yuri wears his around his neck! And haven't you been wondering what I've been doing with it all this time??  
> Me:How do you even know that?! And yes...kind of.  
> Victor:  
> Me:  
> Victor: I just really need this right now  
> Me:  
> Me: Okay, buddy.  
> *returns to typing*
> 
> Also, I'm really sorry for the short chapter this morning (Really! I am!) but with the way I have my publishing timetable set out right now, I couldn't post twice this morning and again tonight. Also, as a further sidebar, AO3 is supposed to be down for maintenance right before normally post tomorrow morning, so the chapter may come a little later than it usually does on Friday's.


	64. TTToF: Chapter 64

Victor didn’t know how much time had passed when the nurse came and got him again. It could have been a year. It was more likely an hour, maybe two. He looked up at her blearily. Yurio shifted so that he was no longer studying the carpet, but the nurse’s shoes. It was enough to let Victor know he was paying attention. 

“The doctors have finished up with him. He’s going to be fine, just a little scare. He’s sleeping right now.” 

“Can we see him?” Victor asked. 

The nurse hesitated. 

“Please,” he added quietly. 

“Are you just going to stay here until I say yes?” she asked. 

“Yes,” Yurio grumbled. 

The nurse glared at him. Yurio, not to be outdone, raised his eyes so he could glare back. Victor was quietly pleased. If Yurio was still enough himself that he was willing to fight back, then maybe the night wasn’t a complete loss after all. He may just make it through. 

“Right this way,” the nurse said with a sigh. 

Victor slowly pulled himself to his feet. His body ached. He had never felt so old. Yurio did the same beside him. Together, they loped along behind the quick, efficient strides of the nurse. She led them through the sliding doors of a ward and then behind a curtain to Yuri’s bed. Yuri was asleep, as they had been informed. The array of machines around him whirred and beeped. Victor trusted that whatever they did was important. There was a single chair next to the bed. 

“You can’t stay long,” the nurse said with one last disapproving look, “Visiting hours are technically over. I’ll be back to get you soon.” 

She walked off. The rubber bottoms of her tennis shoes made soft, angry sounds against the tile of the floor. Victor fell into the chair. Yurio slumped onto the edge of Yuri’s bed. 

Someone had taken off Yuri’s glasses. They were folded up and placed neatly on the table next to his bed. The heart monitor beeped steadily with every breath Yuri took. The blanket on his chest rose and fell. He was still here, even if none of this felt real. Victor reached out and grabbed Yuri’s hand, just to anchor himself in the moment a little more. When they had gotten engaged, Victor had made a promise to himself: so long as he was alive and Yuri was alive, he was going to do everything he could to keep Yuri happy and healthy. To keep Yuri strong and confident. 

He had neglected that promise woefully that spring, but he was here now, and he was with Yuri and things were going to be different this time. 

“I’m so sorry,” Victor choked out. “I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. I’m so sorry that I let you leave and I will do anything, _anything_ to make it different now. I love you. I will always love you. And when you wake up—” 

Victor paused to take a deep breath. 

“When you wake up, and get out of here, and are well again, I’ll take you to see all the stars in the world. I will hunt down the best places, figure out where they shine the brightest, just so you can see them in all their glory, and I don’t care how long it takes, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you, you understand, Yuri? Because I love you. And you’re worth it. And—” 

And Victor had no idea how to put to words the way he was feeling just then. He knew how he would say it if he were skating—he could picture the choreography perfectly in his head, and if he could show that to Yuri, he knew that Yuri would understand. Skating had always been the most common language between the two of them, the one they spoke the most fluently. Victor wished he had the option to speak it now. 

“He knows,” Yurio said quietly. 

The self-righteous pad of sneakers on tile started towards them. Victor stood up. He placed Yuri’s hand gently back on the bed, and then, because it felt right, he leaned forward and kissed Yuri on his cheek. 

“I’ll be right here for you when you wake up,” Victor told him. “And every morning after that. Forever and ever into eternity.” 

The nurse came around the curtain. 

“Time to go,” she said briskly. 

Victor stepped away from the bed. He stared at her bleakly. He didn’t want to leave Yuri’s side ever again. Wherever Yuri was, that’s where he wanted to be. Where Yuri would lead, Victor would happily follow. Forever and ever into eternity. 

“We have your contact information. The hospital will call if anything happens.” 

Victor nodded. He looked down and touched Yuri’s hand again, briefly this time, and stepped forward. One foot after another until he had reached the nurse, and then he slowly followed her through the ward of patients, Yurio silent as a ghost behind him until they reached the waiting room. The nurse turned and retreated into the bowels of the hotel. Victor wandered through the sea of chairs and people until he reached the doors and went outside. 

The cold air hit him hard, like if he had just fallen on the ice. That was the thing about Petersburg; it was cold in December. But it was the first time all night that Victor really felt awake. He blinked a couple of times and looked around, finally processing where he was. Hospital. Yuri was inside but going to be fine. He had come here on an ambulance. He had no way to get home. 

He was just opening his mouth to voice this dilemma when Yurio spoke up. 

“I got us a ride. Should be here in a minute or so.” 

“Kids these days and their newfangled technology,” Victor teased. 

Yurio huffed. “You sound like Yakov.” 

“That was the point,” Victor replied. 

He took a deep breath, let the cold night air fill his lungs. While the warmer months had their appeal, namely Yuri in a swimsuit, Victor had always been more inclined to the colder winter months. They felt more real than the hazy summer days that lasted forever this far north. Winter days were all the more beautiful because they were so fleeting. More sharply focused in Victor’s mind because of the harsh temperatures. But he was an ice skater; he had been born for this kind of weather. 

“He’s going to be alright,” Yurio said. 

“I know,” Victor replied. 

“It may not be what you expect.” 

“I don’t care,” Victor said coolly. “I love him, and I will do anything for him.” 

“I think I’m in love with Beka,” Yurio said suddenly. 

Victor didn’t say anything. He was too busy basking in the cold night air, and Yurio would have only gotten mad at him if he had. 

“Because I think that too, sometimes. And I want to be with him all the time. And I wish he was here when he’s gone, even though I knew he has to leave because he belongs back home. And it’s confusing because I don’t know if what I want _from_ him is more important than what I want _for_ him.” 

“I don’t know the answer, Yuri,” Victor said quietly. “I wish I did, but I don’t. I don’t think anyone does, really. No relationship is perfect because nobody is perfect. All we can do is try the best we can and hope it’s enough, hope it’s more than enough, and sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t. That’s just the way it is.” 

The car pulled up. Yurio climbed into the front seat. Victor settled for the back. When the driver asked for his address, Victor rattled off his apartment building and street without really thinking about it. Technically speaking, he supposed, he should have gone back to the hotel. But the hotel was full of skaters who would want to know what happened and Victor wasn’t even remotely ready to deal with that right now. He just wanted to go home, and curl up with Makkachin, and fall asleep on Yuri’s side of the bed so he wouldn’t have to reach across the empty space and have his heart break. The car took off. Victor fell asleep with his head leaning against the window.


	65. TTToF: Chapter 65

When they reached the apartment, Victor was woken up by Yurio throwing his door open and shaking him roughly. He stumbled out of the car and to the apartment door. He fumbled with his keys for a moment before Yurio ripped them from his hands. Yurio unlocked the building door. Yurio led him upstairs and unlocked his apartment door. All Victor could think about was “bed” and “Makkachin.” 

He pulled off his coat as he shuffled into the apartment. He tossed it towards the couch without really caring where it landed. He hadn’t dreamed when he slept in the car. It had been harsh of Yurio to wake him like that. 

“Victor,” Yurio said. 

Victor kept on his path towards his bedroom. 

“Victor we need to talk about this,” Yurio said. 

Victor paused. Dragged himself around so he could face Yurio. He just wanted to fall into bed. 

“Yurio, I’m tired” He said. 

“Yuri—” 

“Yurio, I said I’m tired,” Victor snapped. “And you can talk about Yuri and everything that’s happened all you want, but I’m going to bed. It’s been a long day.” He paused, considered. 

“It’s been a long _year,_ and I really, really just want to go to sleep right now.” 

Yurio scowled. “Fine.” 

Victor turned back towards the bedroom. Behind him, he heard Yurio collapse on the couch. Makkachin looked up and thumped his tail sadly when Victor walked in. He settled onto the bed and scratched behind the dog’s ears. Makkachin whined. It was impossible, but it was if he knew, somehow, exactly what had happened to Yuri. 

“I was so scared, Makka, and I still am, a little. But they say he’s going to be fine, so he will be, won’t he?” 

Makkachin whined again. Victor sighed. He wished Yuri were here. He emptied his pockets on the nightstand and kicked off his shoes. He didn’t even bother changing; the act of getting up and undressing and pulling on the sweats he wore to bed seemed too great, too monumental, and he was so, so tired. He lifted up the covers enough that he could slide under them. He was on Yuri’s side of the bed, but that was where he wanted to be, so he didn’t try to push Makkachin over. 

The poodle curled up next to him and Victor ran his fingers through his companion’s curly hair until they both fell asleep. 

OOO

Victor was woken by the harsh sound of a ringing phone. He reached out blindly and fumbled with the debris of his pockets for a moment before he found it. He answered the call without checking to see who it was. He felt like he had barely slept, but yet, it also felt like he had been asleep for an eternity. 

“ _Privet,_ ” Victor said. He rubbed his hand over his face. God, he was tired. Makkachin was still sleeping next to him. The sky outside the window was still the deep violet that came before dawn. What time was it? What time had he gone to bed last night? What had— 

Yuri. Victor sucked in a deep breath. Whoever was at the end of the line hadn’t answered yet. He was about to pull the phone away and check who had called when a woman spoke. 

“You are not Yuri,” she said in the neat and comfortable English of a native speaker. Victor froze. Fuck. He had forgotten that he had never given Yuri his phone back last night. Not that that really mattered, all things considered. 

“Victor?” The woman asked. 

“Maria?” Victor guessed. 

The woman at the end of the line chuckled. 

“Not Maria,” she said. “Theia. The other one.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yes.” 

They were both quiet for a long moment. Yuri had mentioned Theia the other night. She was Maria’s fiancé. She and Yuri had gone to school together. Yuri liked her. 

“Is…um…is Yuri there?” Theia asked eventually. “I don’t want to, um, pry or anything, but uh…” 

Under different circumstances, Victor would have laughed. Theia thought he and Yuri had slept together, but she was too well-mannered to say it outright. Maria would have. He would have. But not Theia. She reminded Victor then of Yuri, or at least, Yuri as he had been before. Painstakingly polite, completely unwilling to impose on someone else. He almost wished that Yuri was there in the bed next to him, that all that had happened last night was that they had had a meaningless one-night stand, not just so that this nightmare could at last be over, but so that he wouldn’t have to give Theia the news. But Yuri wasn’t there. And he couldn’t leave Theia hanging forever. 

“He’s in the hospital,” Victor said. His voice was surprisingly steady. Admitting that fact just hours ago would have been hard to focus on. _He’s going to be fine,_ Victor reminded himself. 

_“What?”_ Theia exclaimed. 

“There was—I don’t know what there was, I wasn’t really paying attention to the nurse, but he collapsed last night after the awards ceremony and…yeah,” Victor said. 

“He’s going to be fine!” He added quickly before Theia completely lost it. “He’s just…in the hospital.” 

“God,” Theia said. Her voice was the bright, sharp color of shock. “We’ve been waiting for him to call all afternoon. I just—in the _hospital?”_

Now she sounded like she was about to start crying. 

“But he’s going to be fine,” Victor said again. 

he sniffed, and Victor knew that the mantra he kept repeating—that Yuri would be fine—made no difference. What mattered was that Yuri clearly wasn’t fine _now;_ he was in a hospital in foreign and distant country, far away from Theia and Maria and their love. 

“I just thought I would call one last time,” she said. “Just to make sure. Figured that he was busy or—or—” 

“I’m sorry it wasn’t good news,” Victor said. 

“We watched him skate,” Theia said. “We were so proud. It was beautiful. And a gold medal! At the Finals! After everything he’s been through.” 

“I know,” Victor said. 

“You’ll call?” Theia asked. “If anything happens?” 

“I’ll call.” Victor reassured her. 

“Alright. Do you want my contact information? I don’t know if you’ll be able to get into Yuri’s phone; I think it has a passcode.” 

Victor responded in the affirmative and she rattled it off. He entered it carefully into his phone and read it back to her, just to make sure it was correct. 

“Thank you, Victor,” she said when he was done. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“When you see him…will you tell him that Maria and I love him? And that we’ll be here for him no matter what?” 

“I will,” Victor said. 

“Good,” Theia sighed. “You’re a good man, Victor. I know this can’t be easy for you.” 

“I love him,” Victor said. It was surprisingly easy to admit this truth to a stranger he couldn’t see who lived millions of miles away. It should have been disturbing, but he trusted Theia in the same immediate way that he had trusted Yuri, after the initial shock of their first meeting had worn off. 

Theia’s only response was a sigh. 

“I’ll talk to you later Victor, alright?” 

“Yeah,” he said. “Bye.” 

“Bye.” 

The line went dead. Victor considered the phone in his hand. Yuri’s phone, or his new one. He flipped it over. The case, to Victor’s complete lack of surprise, was an illustration of a silhouette stargazing. It was beautiful. It was also such a completely Yuri thing to have. He loved it. He checked the time—8:15. He had no idea when he and Yurio had finally left the hospital, but it had to have been late. The Victory Ceremony had started around ten last night, and it felt like they’d been at the hospital for an eternity. 

He was still in his sweats and outfit from the free skate. Victor pulled himself off the bed and closed the curtain with one brisk movement. 

“Yurio!” he called. 

He started slipping off the uniform. He wasn’t sure about the schedule, but he had a vague feeling that they needed to be at the rink soon. 

A low moan came from the living room. Victor found a shirt and then a sweater and pulled them on. Hunted down a clean pair of underwear and pulled those on followed by a clean pair of pants. 

“Yuri!” he called again, swinging the door open. 

From the couch, Yurio muttered something that could have been a threat. Victor walked over and shook the younger man awake. 

“Yakov’s going to kill us if we don’t check in with him this morning.” Victor said. 

“Let him fucking _try_.” Yurio muttered back. He still hadn’t opened his eyes. It looked like he was trying to bury his face in his elbow. “I don’t give a crap anymore, and I’m pretty sure I could take the old man.” 

“You have until I finish making coffee,” Victor warned. 

Yurio groaned but didn’t move. Victor padded into the kitchen. He was tired still, but he had a focus now: Yuri, in the hospital, getting better. After he checked in with Yakov, he could go back, visit, see if Yuri was awake. They would talk. They would work through this, together, because that’s how they always did things. 

Yurio stumbled off the couch and into the kitchen when the smell of coffee was too strong to ignore. Victor handed him a cup mutely, which Yurio downed in two gulps before going for another. When they were both awake enough to face the world, they left the apartment together and caught a cab over to the hotel and the rink. Yakov grumbled at them, but they hadn’t missed anything, so they were in the clear. 

“Do the officials know what happened to Yuri?” Victor asked. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Yakov said, waving him off. “I took care of it. Go skate. You have the exhibition. And the banquet.” 

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Yurio said. 

Victor cringed a little at Yurio’s language, but he agreed with the sentiment entirely. They had Yuri to think about; how could they skate at a time like this? 

“What would Yuri want you to do?” Yakov asked. “Not participate because of him? I do not know him very well, but I think he would tell you to do the opposite. Go skate. Make him proud. And then later, you can visit.” 

Yakov had a point, but that didn’t mean Victor had to like it. He had never felt more inclined to go against the old man’s directions, even if he was right. But Yakov had that look on his face that left no room for argument, and Victor didn’t want to risk upsetting Yuri, so he didn’t fight the order. 

“If the hospital calls,” Victor said. “I’m going.” 

Yakov shrugged. “Do what you think is best, Vitya. I long ago learned that I cannot stop you.” 

They studied each other for a moment, teacher and student, and then Victor turned away. It was good that he was retiring now. He loved Yakov dearly, but the old man was beginning to wear on him, and Victor only wanted to have to worry about being with Yuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update tonight fam! I came home today and my focus has pretty much been on finishing up and submitting a job application for a position that I really, really want and found out was available literally less than a week ago.  
> I also switched time zones and am now on a break from school, so late updates are probably going to be the new routine as we reach the conclusion of this fic.  
> I am aiming to finish up the companion this week also, though, and I'll do my best to keep you guys posted with how that's going. 
> 
> **Also, things to note of Theia's response to Victor saying he's in love with Yuri:**  
>  Theia and Yuri (in this fic, anyways) were really, really close in college. She knows how much Yuri idolized Victor then, and knows enough from Yuri to know that he was once considered "the most eligible bachelor in the entire sport." She knows that Yuri and Victor had some sort of relationship (???) last year from her own research and assumptions, but she doesn't know the extent of it and knows that clearly, by the time Yuri's accident rolled around, it had ended. So I think she kind of thinks that Victor broke Yuri's heart. She also knows that Yuri has met Victor again and that Yuri thinks he's hot. She hasn't outright told Yuri about what she's learned and the conclusions she's drawn, but she's still warned Yuri to be careful, and she's a little wary of Victor herself. 
> 
> **Translation for the Russian for people who, like me, forget to look it up:**  
>  _Privet_ : Hi/Hello  
>  _lyubov_ : Love
> 
> * _from last chapter, Victor's pet name for Yuri._


	66. TTToF: Chapter 66

The banquet that night was lackluster, and overshadowed with a somber mood. By now, everyone had heard of what had happened to Yuri. Everyone either tiptoed around the subject with Victor or asked him about it point blank. It would have been enough to wear Victor down to exhaustion, but Yurio stuck by his side and scared everyone off when the conversation slanted towards Yuri, so the evening was saved from being a complete loss. Beka also stayed with Yurio and him and the three of them made pleasant conversation through the night. Victor’s mind kept turning back to Yurio’s announcement the night before: I think I’m in love with Beka. 

Now that it was out in the open, Victor could see Yurio’s affection plainly. The admiration and adoration in Yurio’s eyes whenever he looked at the other boy was tangible. He was softer, somehow. The best version of himself that Victor had ever seen. Yuri had done that for him, once. Yuri had made Victor a better man, had inspired him to be a better man. That’s what really being in love did to a person. It didn’t change them, it just encouraged them to be _better,_ and it showed. 

He was thankful when the banquet was over. All this time, while he was biting off smiles and making pleasant small talk, Yuri was still lying in the hospital. No one had called him, but that didn’t mean that nothing had happened. The nurse had hated him enough last night that he wouldn’t put it past her to put off calling him until it was far too late for him to come visit. Victor slipped up to his hotel room and packed up his things before checking out and catching a taxi back to his apartment. He would drop off his stuff, then go visit Yuri again, assuming, of course, that visiting hours hadn’t ended. 

Victor was surprised when he got back to his apartment and found Yuri lounging on the stoop like a stray cat, still wearing the suit he had worn to the banquet, hit suitcase standing proudly besides him. 

“What are you doing here?” Victor asked, looking down at him as he stepped up to the door. 

“I’m staying with you until Yuri gets better,” Yurio said plainly. 

They considered one another, Victor, standing there with his keys in one hand, the handle of his suitcase grasped firmly in the other, Yurio, sitting on the stoop like if it was a chaise lounge, daring Victor to contradict him. 

“You’re going to have to sleep on the couch,” Victor said plainly. 

“Okay,” Yurio replied. 

“And I don’t have any extra pillows.” 

“I brought my own. And a blanket too.” 

“What about Ubiytsa?” Victor asked. 

“Yakov can keep an eye on her.” 

“Fine,” Victor finally conceded, “but if you’re too much trouble, I’m kicking you out.” 

“I’d like to see you try,” Yurio replied. He stood up in one swift movement, Victor turned the key in the lock. They walked up the stairs and to his apartment together in silence. No sooner had Victor opened up his apartment door and Yurio pushed past him did his phone start ringing. Victor pulled it out and answered without checking the number. He trusted that it would be the hospital because he needed it to be. 

“Mister Nikiforov?” A pleasant voice chirped at the other end of the line. 

“This is he,” Victor replied. His heart was pounding. Had Yuri woken up? Were they going to let Victor see him? 

“I’m calling to inform you that Katsuki Yuri woke up this evening.” 

“Did he say anything?” Victor demanded. 

Yurio glanced up sharply from where he was curled up on the couch. 

“He asked for you, yes,” the woman said. 

Victor’s breath caught. Yuri wanted to see him. He had to go. 

“I—I’m on my way,” Victor said. What did it matter that he had just gotten home and that he was still dressed up for the banquet; _Yuri wanted to see him._

“Unfortunately Mr. Nikiforov, visiting hours are over—” 

That nurse. Victor clenched his teeth. He wanted to hit something. 

“—and as it is,” the woman continued, “he wasn’t awake for very long. Barely fifteen minutes, at most.” 

“Oh,” Victor said. He slumped against the kitchen island. Once, Yuri had sat here and watched him make dinner. Once, the two of them had made a play at being happy here. 

“The good news is, however, that now that he’s woken up, he should do so again and be awake for longer and longer periods every time. He should make a full recovery in no time.” 

“That’s wonderful,” Victor rasped. 

“It is indeed,” the woman said. “We’ll be in touch,” 

“Of course, thank you,” Victor said. 

They said their goodbyes and the woman hung up. Victor stared numbly at his phone for a minute. Yuri had woken up and asked for him, _Victor._ His heart sang with hope and promise. 

“Was that the hospital?” Yurio asked. “Is Yuri alright? What happened?” 

“He woke up,” Victor said quietly. “We can’t go visit, because he’s sleeping again and visiting hours are over, but—” 

Victor inhaled sharply and looked up at Yurio. He could feel tears burning in the backs of his eyes. 

“Yuri, he woke up,” Victor said. “And he asked for me. He wants to see me.” 

Yurio was not as overjoyed at this news at Victor had imagined he would be. Instead, his expression was carefully guarded. 

“He woke up,” Yurio said slowly. 

“And he wanted to see me!” Victor cried. He could have celebrated. He could have made a feast. He could have danced until his legs wouldn’t move anymore. Yuri had asked for him. Yuri wanted to see him. 

“And he wanted to see you,” Yurio agreed. “Victor, I don’t want to ruin this for you, but are you sure that’s a good thing?” Victor’s heart flopped back down to earth. 

“Do you have to ruin everything?” He asked. 

“Victor, you two _broke up,_ ” Yuri said, emphasizing the last two words. “Yuri left, and last night, it sounded an awful lot like he was remembering being with you. What if he remembers why he left? What if he just wants to say ‘hey thanks for everything, but I’ll be going back home now’? Victor, he might have asked for you because you’re the only person he knows who speaks Japanese.” 

“You really are terrible; you know that?” Victor spat. “I love him—” 

“BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN HE STILL LOVES YOU!” Yurio shouted. 

Victor stood there in shock for a moment. How could Yurio even say something like that? Yuri wanted Victor to take him to see the stars. Yuri had asked him to dance, and they’d had fun together. Yuri had made every sign he liked Victor. 

But that, of course, had been before Yuri had remembered who Victor was. Everything might be different now. Yuri might want to leave again, or worse, he might stick around only because he felt like he had too, like if he had some sort of obligation to Victor. 

“I love him,” Victor said again, more quietly this time. It tasted like defeat in his mouth. 

“I know,” Yurio said. His voice was surprisingly gentle. 

They stared at each other for a moment. 

“I should call Theia,” Victor said at last. 

“I’ll call Yuuko-chan,” Yurio replied. Victor retreated into his bedroom and sat down on his bed. He heard Yurio talking on the phone in the other room. He called Theia, but she didn’t answer. He left a message. Makkachin padded into the room and rested his head on Victor’s lap. Victor scratched at his ears. 

“He wanted to see me, Makkachin,” Victor whispered. 

The dog made a big sniff. Victor chuckled to himself, then stood and got dressed for bed. Today, Yuri had woken up for fifteen minutes. Tomorrow, he would be awake even longer, and longer and longer until he could leave the hospital. Victor would bring him back here for a while after that, until Yuri was well enough to go back to Hasetsu, if that was what Yuri wanted. 

Victor threw open the curtains before he went to bed. Yuri had loved the view of the city afforded from Victor’s bedroom, _their_ bedroom. It had been one of Victor’s favorite things about having Yuri in Petersburg: Yuri’s constant marveling over his city. Looking out over the park now felt like a prayer. Victor curled up into bed and Makkachin jumped up beside him and curled around Victor’s legs. He didn’t have practice tomorrow; he could go see Yuri. 

Victor fell asleep smiling just thinking about it.


	67. TTToF: Chapter 67

Yuri only stayed in the hospital for a few days. He was asleep the first few days that Victor and Yurio came to visit him, but as the week wore on, he was awake more often and was alert enough to talk to both of them, although the effort seemed to wear him down. The doctors told Victor that they would want Yuri to stay in the city for a few days after his release, just so they could continue to monitor him. Victor happily agreed to this arrangement. He wasn’t concerned about moving Yuri back into his apartment; Victor still had a lot of Yuri’s clothes in the storage unit downstairs and if they weren’t up to snuff for whatever reason, they could always share. Yuri was only a few inches shorter than Victor, and they had the same kind of build. 

Yuri looked gloriously bored sitting in the wheelchair that the nurses insisted on using to take him to Victor’s car. Yurio walked besides him looking as moody as ever. Victor was caught in a war of wanting to say something and not knowing what, exactly, to say. When they got to the car, Yurio helped Yuri to his feet. He guided Yuri into the back seat and climbed in behind him. Victor thanked the nurses and got into the driver’s seat. He glanced in the rearview mirror quickly before he put the keys in the ignition. Yuri was staring out the window, chin propped on his hand, face unreadable. 

_'That doesn’t mean he still loves you,'_ Yurio had said. 

Victor swallowed. He pulled the car out of the parking lot. The drive back to the apartment was quiet. Yurio spoke in a low voice to Yuri. Yuri replied every now and then in the same quiet tone. When they came to Victor’s street, he navigated the car carefully into a space near the door. He stepped out and was about to go around to help Yuri, but Yurio beat him to it, already slinging Yuri’s arm around his shoulder and helping him to his feet. 

Yuri swayed a lot, even with Yurio there to support him. Maybe the nurses had been right to make him use a wheelchair. Victor stood by, holding his breath, as Yuri tilted his head back to look at the building, the pale blue sky, already being tinted with the gold of sunset. He sighed. Victor didn’t know if he should take that well or not. 

“Are you ready?” He asked. 

Yuri glanced over at him with the same iron determination he’d shown at the Finals. 

“That’s a stupid question,” Yurio snapped. 

Yuri gave that a small little smile. 

“I think I’m okay, Yurio,” he said. 

Together, they walked towards the door. Victor watched the pair of them for a moment, barely over a year ago they had been so set against each other and now one was wholly dependent on the other. His heart ached for the innocence of that time, but they were reaching the door and Yurio was screeching at him to come unlock it. Victor made sure the car was locked then jogged up to meet them. He led them through the hallway to the stairs and here Yuri paused. 

“Can you do it?” Yurio asked. His voice was full of genuine concern. 

Yuri set his jaw. “Hold onto me,” he said. 

Yurio nodded. Victor hovered behind them as they slowly made their way up the stairs, ready to catch Yuri in case he did fall. 

After what felt like an eternity, they reached the apartment. Victor went first and unlocked the door. Yuri and Yurio were barely through the door when Makkachin collided with Yuri. Victor watched in horror as the big poodle undid Yuri’s already delicate balance. Yuri didn’t even try to fight it; he just let himself be knocked to the floor. 

“Hello, Makkachin,” Yuri said with a smile. 

Makkachin eagerly liked at Yuri’s face, and Yuri chuckled. His hands were already buried into the thick fur around Makkachin’s ears. 

“Yes, I know, it’s good to see you too.” 

Victor’s heart warmed to see the two of them together again. Yurio was standing by and scowling, but Victor thought that he looked pleased too. After a while, Yuri clunked his head onto the ground with a happy sigh. Makkachin was still sprawled on top of him. Yuri continue to scratch at his ears and his head with absent-minded fingers. 

“Your stuff’s in the bedroom. Victor and I are sleeping out here,” Yurio said blandly. 

Yuri looked up at them. His fingers stilled on Makkachin’s head. “You don’t have to do that.” 

“Well, Yurio snores,” Victor said. 

“I do not!” 

“Yes, you do,” Victor said coolly. “It’s kinda whistly, but you do.” 

He looked back down at Yuri. “We figured you wouldn’t want to be bothered, and Yurio refuses to move out.” 

“The couch is mine now,” Yurio added stubbornly. 

“Are you sure?” Yuri asked. “I don’t mind Yurio snoring.” 

“I’m sure,” Victor replied. 

Yuri hadn’t asked why they weren’t sharing a bed. Victor didn’t know whether to feel relieved or depressed. 

“Okay,” Yuri said. He pulled himself into a sitting position. Makkachin huffed as he was forced off Yuri, but Yuri started scratching behind his ears again, and the poodle contented himself with resting in Yuri’s lap. 

“I have to go back to Japan in a few days,” Yuri said quietly. 

Victor’s heart dropped out. So he was planning on leaving again. 

“Are you _insane?_ ” Yurio spat. 

“I have the National Championships!” Yuri replied. 

“Yuri, you can barely—” Victor started. 

“I can barely what?” Yuri snapped, turning to him. “Stand? Walk? My balance is always better when I’m skating. I don’t know why, but it is. And I’m not giving up skating for anything in the world. I’m not retiring until my body falls out beneath me. You can try and stop me, but I’ll find a way. I always have and I always will.” 

Victor wanted to object, but he knew it would be pointless. 

"Yuuko-chan already arranged the flight for me. I talked to her while I was in the hospital. I know I could probably withdraw, given everything that’s happened, but I don’t want to. I always feel more steadily _me_ when I’m skating.” 

“Okay,” Victor said quietly. “I’ll take you to airport if you give me the information.” 

Yuri nodded firmly, then closed his eyes tightly. He still held onto Makkachin tightly. After several long deep breaths, Yuri opened his eyes again. 

“Better?” Victor asked. 

“Better,” Yuri replied. 

“Are we getting anything to eat?” Yurio asked. “I’m starving.” 

Yuri grimaced. “I’m not really hungry.” 

“What’s your problem?” Yurio demanded. 

“Same one as always,” Yuri shot back. “It’s like I told you in Sapporo; I lost whatever appetite I used to have with the rest of my life this summer. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I did.” 

Yurio scoffed. “Well, I’m still hungry.” 

“I’ll make you something,” Victor said. He glanced down at Yuri. “You’re really not hungry?” 

Yuri shook his head a little. “I’m really not.” 

“Alright. Just so long as you don’t forgo eating altogether…” 

A weak smile. 

“I won’t.” 

Victor retreated to the kitchen and busied himself with making something that could pass for a late lunch or early dinner for he and Yurio. He could hear the low mumble of Yurio and Yuri speaking to one another. Yurio turned on the TV. Victor tried not to think about making dinner while Yuri had sat on the counter and watched him. Victor knew that he wasn’t the best cook in the world, but Yuri had always seemed to like what he made. When Victor finished making two sandwiches he carried them out on plates to the living room. 

Yuri had transferred himself to his usual corner of the couch, a Victor suppressed a cringe at the sight. Did Yuri remember living here, or was he just falling back on old habits without realizing it? Makkachin was curled up next to Yuri, head in Yuri’s lap. Yurio had turned on a documentary about big cats and was watching it moodily from the other corner of the couch. Victor settled awkwardly between the two of them and silently handed Yurio his plate. 

For a long time, none of them said anything to each other. The narrator for the documentary discussed lion prides. Yuri quietly pet Makkachin; the documentary was in Russian and Victor knew he had no idea what was going on. When Yurio finished his sandwich, he mutely stood up and carried his and Victor’s plate to the kitchen. Yuri shifted and Victor thought he would say something, but he didn’t. Their history was suffocating. Yurio stacked the plates in the sink with a small clink and came back. They finished watching the documentary. 

When the credits started rolling, Yuri stood up and stretched. “I’m going to go to bed,” he said quietly. 

Victor nodded in response without looking at Yuri. This was an even more miserable time than when he had first come to Hasetsu. Even if Yuri hadn’t known what to do with him then, Victor had at least known that Yuri _liked_ him. Now though…now he and Victor may as well have been strangers. Back to square one, when Yuri walked away in Sochi after Victor asked him for a photo. 

The bedroom door closed with a soft thud. Yurio waited for a moment without moving before he spoke. 

“Are you ever going to talk to him again?” he asked Victor in Russian. 

Victor shrugged. “I don’t…I don’t know what to say to him Yurio.” 

“You had plenty to say that first night in the hospital.” 

“That was before it occurred to me that I might lose him again.” 

“You’re going to lose him if you don’t talk to him.” 

“You don’t understand,” Victor said. He was suddenly very tired. In all his imaginings of what Yuri’s homecoming would be like, he had never dreamed of this. 

Yurio considered him for a moment. Victor stood and started pulling the cushions off the back of the couch so he could sleep on it. Yurio stood up eventually and helped him before pulling out the mat he had brought over and unrolling it on the floor. Victor turned off the lights when they were both ready. 

“Night,” he said. 

“Night,” Yurio replied. 

They had practice tomorrow. Yakov had told Victor to bring Yuri along. Victor did his best to put the implications of that from his mind and closed his eyes. He was tired, but he couldn’t sleep. He could still feel his mind reeling with memories of Yuri and everything they had been. The past had never felt so far away. 

OOO

Yuri lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling for a long time before rolling onto his side and staring out the window to the park. Makkachin was snoring softly behind him. His head hurt. He could remember living here. He had been remembering all night. Stepping out of the car this afternoon had brought upon him a strange sense of déjà vu. He could remember greeting Makkachin at the door. He could remember sitting on the counter watching Victor cook for him. He could remember lying on the couch, tangled up with Victor, kissing Victor, brown boxes full of his stuff around them. He could remember lying in this bed with Victor besides him, Victor’s arms wrapped around him, Victor’s fingers pressed gently against his skin. 

What had happened? Had he left, or had Victor made him leave? Why? Why hadn’t Victor been with him through the last six months? How had they even met? At a skating competition? And why hadn’t Victor mentioned any of that when he had seen Yuri again? 

It was so confusing. Finally, Yuri had thought he had been able to find someone he could start a new life with, free from the heavy chains of who he had been, but that was a lie. Had Victor ever seen Yuri for who he was now, or had he only ever looked at Yuri and seen the remnants of the man he had once, possibly, loved? Had Yuri imagined Victor flirting with him? Had he been blinded by his own hope that he and Victor could be something more? 

He reached over to where his athletic bag as leaning against the legs of the nightstand and dug around inside until his fingers closed around the thin, worn shoelace that he had strung his ring onto that summer. It sparkled innocently in the ambient light that came through the window. He had bought that ring in a shop in Barcelona last year; one for him, one for Victor. An engagement ring. He and Victor had been engaged. Looking at it now, with the scattered memories he had, he didn’t know how to feel about it anymore. On one hand, it was the same feeling as always, of love and joy and _home._ On the other, he didn’t know if he was even allowed to even wear it anymore. He hadn't seen Victor wearing his, and besides that, all evidence suggested that at some point before his accident this summer, he and Victor must have broken up. That was why he had decided not to move away from Hasetsu, or at least, not move away entirely. That was why the ring had been hidden in the corner of his room, out of sight and out of mind. 

Carefully, Yuri undid the knot tying the ends of the shoelace together and slipped the ring into his palm. He slid it onto his right ring finger and reveled for a moment about how easily it fit beneath his knuckle, how right it looked to see it banding his finger. With a sigh, he slid the ring off again. Until he had a better idea of everything that had happened between he and Victor—and where they stood now—he wouldn’t wear it. Ring clutched carefully in one hand, he reached again into his athletic bag and pulled out his wallet. He tipped the ring into the ever-empty change pocket and then zipped it back up. It didn’t feel as safe to keep it there as it had been around his neck, but for now, it would do. Suddenly exhausted, he slid everything back into the bag and rolled over to bury his fingers, his face, into Makkachin’s soft fur. 

It was too much. He wanted his old life back; he wanted to erase all of it from existence and start over fresh. He wanted to be with Victor; he wanted to be able to start something entirely new. What had he done to deserve this injustice? Was there something fundamentally wrong with him? There had been a nurse at the hospital who seemed to think so. He had caught her sending him disapproving glances often. 

Yuri didn’t realize he was crying until he felt the wet track of a tear streak down his cheek. Yurio said he would get to go to practice tomorrow. If he was lucky, Yakov would let him skate. He closed his eyes, but he could still feel the golden St. Petersburg light filling up the room, illuminating a small space behind him, but still leaving a lot in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whatever you do
> 
> remember what Yuri did with his ring because if you forget you will be v confused later on.


	68. TTToF: Chapter 68

Victor had mixed feelings as he and Yurio said goodbye to Yuri at the airport. On one hand, the last several days had been a silent sort of torture as he and Yuri danced around each other. Yuri had not given any indication of what he did and did not remember and Victor was afraid to ask questions to clarify the matter. If Yuri remembered leaving… 

Well, Victor may as well give up hope now if Yuri remembered leaving. It seemed inevitable that if he did, he would want to leave again. And Victor didn’t want Yuri to leave. The thought terrified him. To get Yuri back only to lose him again after all this time would be unbearable. His life was better with Yuri in it, even now, with things the way they were between them. 

Victor handed Yuri a small key. 

“For when you get back,” Victor said. “So you can get in.” 

Victor watched Yuri look at the silver piece of metal for a long moment. Yuri pocketed it without a word. 

“And you have my number,” Victor said. 

Yuri nodded. 

“And Yurio’s.” 

Another nod. 

“And—” 

“He’ll be fine, Victor,” Yurio scoffed. 

Yuri gave Yurio a look that may have been described as relieved. Victor’s heart sank. 

“Good luck, to both of you,” Yuri said. 

“Victor’s going to need it,” Yurio shot back. 

Yuri smiled. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.” 

Victor met his former fiancé’s eyes. It was so hard to read Yuri these days, not knowing what he remembered and what he didn’t. It had been hard to read Yuri when they first met too, beyond the obvious, but Victor had learned the subtle language that Yuri spoke with his body. Now though…familiar words were missing from Yuri’s silent lexicon, and too many new ones had been added. Victor was trying to figure it out, but it was hard. He lacked the context of six months. Before, he had been able to do research, figure out what kind of person Yuri was, but Yuri’s social media presence now was minimal and generic, besides a newfound obsession with stars and art museums. 

“Good luck to you too,” Victor said. 

Yuri nodded. 

The three of them stood there awkwardly for a moment. Yuri swayed a little. Victor considered hugging him goodbye. Yurio scowled at them both. 

“Come on,” Yurio said at last, when it was clear that neither of them was going to do anything. “We’re going to miss our flight.” Victor glanced at Yuri one last time, then turned and followed Yurio back down the terminal. He kept on waiting for Yuri to say something, to call his name, but the other man never did. Victor looked back, once, but Yuri was already gone by the time he did. 

“You two _really_ need to talk to each other,” Yurio grumbled. 

“We talk,” Victor said. “We just were talking!” 

“That wasn’t talking,” Yurio snapped back. “That was…something else. I mean talk. About you two. I didn’t think it was possible, but this is actually worse than when you were together.” 

Victor didn’t say anything. 

“You still love him?” Yurio asked. 

Victor glanced back over his shoulder again. Yuri was still gone. He turned to look ahead. He avoided looking at Yurio, although he could feel the teenager’s eyes on him. 

“With all my heart,” Victor said firmly. 

“Then do something about it,” Yurio said. He walked ahead and Victor let him. 

Do something, sure. But what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter now justified by long ones last night and tonight


	69. TTToF: Chapter 69

The weekend flew by in a blur. Yurio beat Victor again. Victor was too busy wanting to get home to see Yuri. But they would be done a day or so before Yuri. And Yuri had a longer flight back. Yakov had resigned himself to Victor’s attitude now that Yuri was around. Victor was pretty sure Yurio had told the old man about the tension between Victor and Yuri, but he may have just seen it for himself at their practices. Victor didn’t really know, and he wasn’t overly inclined to care. He just wanted Yuri back. It didn’t matter which version, old or new. Just…Yuri. In any shape he wanted to come, Victor wanted him back, just so long as he came home. 

They came back to Petersburg on Sunday. 

Victor waited impatiently all of Monday for Yuri to return. He fell asleep on the couch waiting. 

On Tuesday morning, Yuri still wasn’t back. Victor tried to put any fears out of his mind and went to practice. Yuri had never texted Victor his flight plans, so Victor didn’t know when he would be home. But if he didn’t go to practice today, Yakov would kill him. Victor briefly considered texting Yuri—or even Yuuko—for information, but he didn’t want to bother either of them. He left the apartment mournfully. Makkachin whined when he closed the door. 

He was positively useless at practice, but Yakov didn’t send him home early. Yurio had made plans to visit Beka for a week in Kazakhstan, so Victor pretty much got the blunt force of Yakov’s attention. He tried to tell himself that this was a good thing, and that he probably needed it. Georgi had come closer to beating him than usual at the Nationals. Still, Victor was happy when he could go home. He prayed that the apartment wouldn’t be empty again tonight. 

Makkachin whined when he opened the door. If Makkachin was whining…well, Yuri must not have come home then. Victor had been refusing to entertain the idea that Yuri may just stay in Japan all weekend, but it seemed hard to ignore now. He hadn’t said anything when he had taken the key, but that was Yuri. And he had never explicitly _told_ Victor he was coming back. 

Victor sighed and dropped his bag on the floor. Forget dinner, he wanted to curl up on Yuri’s side of the bed and sleep for ages. When he looked up though, he saw a familiar dark head of hair peeking over the top of the couch, and suddenly, it wasn’t December, but May and he was in love and happy and he would tap on Yuri’s head with his knuckles to wake him up. 

It almost felt too good to be real, to know that Yuri could have stayed in Japan but he had chosen to come back here. Victor walked around the couch, just so he could see Yuri, just so he could reassure himself that Yuri was actually here, in his living room, on his couch. 

Yuri was sitting on the couch, arms wrapped around his knees. His glasses had been pushed to his forehead. His face was buried in his legs. Victor could hear him taking deep, careful breaths. Makkachin whined again and looked up at Victor with worried puppy eyes. 

“Yuri?” Victor asked. 

Yuri took a deep breath. “Hi,” he mumbled. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Not really.” 

Victor crouched down in front of Yuri. They had spent the last few weeks dancing around each other. He didn’t know what to do here. Before, he wouldn’t have hesitated to reach out, touch Yuri’s shoulder, to make contact. But now… 

He didn’t want to scare Yuri off. Before, in Hasetsu when they had first really met, Victor had at least known that Yuri liked him. Everything may have changed now. Yuri may barely tolerate him. Sure, he had come home, but that might have been only out of a sense of obligation, or because all of his stuff was here, or because he wanted to keep working with Yakov. 

“What’s wrong?” Victor asked. 

Victor watched as Yuri swallowed. He opened his eyes and peered above his knees to look at Victor. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve had headaches before, but this isn’t like that.” 

“Worse?” 

“Nothing will ever top the Grand Prix, so no.” 

Victor wanted to reach out and touch Yuri so badly, to check if he had a fever, to demonstrate, somehow, that he was there. 

“Explain,” Victor commanded. 

“Mostly I just feel really hot,” Yuri said. 

“So you’re sick?” Victor asked. 

“What?” Yuri replied. 

Victor mentally reprimanded himself. If Yuri was sick, of course he wouldn’t know it. He probably didn’t remember what it felt like to be sick. He finally garnered the courage to reach out and press the back of his hand to Yuri’s forehead. It was burning. 

“I think you have fever,” Victor said, rising. “Come on, I want to take your temperature.” 

Yuri took another deep breath. He had closed his eyes again. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” he mumbled into his knees. Victor opened his mouth to object, but then he considered Yuri’s position. Curled around his knees, ragged but carefully steady breathing, closed eyes. 

“How bad is it?” He asked instead. “Your dizziness.” 

Yuri didn’t even move, didn’t open his eyes to check or look up at Victor. 

“Bad,” he said. 

Victor’s heart was pounding. “I’ll be right back,” he said. 

Yuri didn’t reply. Victor jogged over to the bathroom and grabbed everything he thought he would need: a thermometer, a spare glass that he filled quickly with water, the bottle of Ibuprofen. When he had gathered his supplies, he returned to the living room. Yuri hadn’t moved, and he didn’t move in reaction to Victor’s return. Makkachin was sitting in front of him and whined when he saw Victor. Victor nudged the poodle out of the way and crouched down in front of Yuri once more. 

“Open your mouth,” Victor directed. 

Yuri did as he was told and Victor slipped the thermometer in. Victor waited patiently and then pulled it out again when it beeped. 

38.3 degrees. Victor did his best to keep his breathing even. That was high. That was very, very high. When were you supposed to take someone to the hospital for a fever? How long had Yuri been sitting here like this? 

“Victor?” Yuri asked. 

“You have a fever,” Victor confirmed numbly. 

“Is that bad?” 

“Give me a second,” Victor replied. He pulled up his phone. Searched. Answer: 39.4 degrees. Okay, so not that bad. But still bad. 

“It could be worse,” Victor replied tightly. 

He may have been imagining it, but he thought he heard Yuri sigh. Victor opened up the bottle and tapped one of the pills onto his palm. He picked up the glass of water he had filled in the bathroom. 

“I have something you can take to help,” Victor told Yuri. 

“Okay,” 

“Open,” Victor directed again. He dropped the pill in Yuri’s mouth and lifted up the glass. 

“And drink this.” 

Yuri wrapped a very hot hand around Victor’s and swallowed a gulp of water with the pill. Victor took the glass from him and set it gently on the stack of coasters on the end table. 

“Come on,” he said. “I’m going to get you to bed.” 

Victor wrapped one of Yuri’s arms around his neck, and then the other. Yuri didn’t fight him, or say that he could walk or do it himself. Either he really didn’t mind, or he was too uncertain in his balance and the sturdiness of the floor beneath his feet to object. Victor took a deep breath and slid one arm under Yuri’s knees and wrapped another around his former fiancé’s back. Yuri tightened his grip on Victor’s neck. He was burning up in Victor’s arms. Victor stood. 

Yuri was uncomfortably light. Victor’s breath caught. While they had been together, Victor had become familiar with exactly how heavy Yuri should be, and this wasn’t just slightly, under that expectation, enough that he could dismiss it as a fluke, or time. No, Yuri’s current weight was significantly under that expectation. Uncomfortably so. Yuri had mentioned that he didn’t eat as much as he used to, and maybe he trained more than he had before, if he had nothing better to do now, but still. Once Yuri’s fever was broken, first order of business was making sure he was eating properly again. But that would be later. 

Victor carried Yuri to the bedroom and set him gently down on the top corner of the bed. It was the work of a minute to pull aside the comforter while he kept one arm wrapped around Yuri. Yuri still held onto him once Victor had worked it out, not even really letting go when Victor did. Yuri had opened his eyes again, but they were glazed-over with his fever. Victor stepped back, but Yuri still held onto his hand. 

“Stay,” Yuri said. 

Victor’s heart caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to say. 

“Please,” Yuri added. 

Victor looked at Yuri and Yuri looked back. He gave a sharp nod and slipped around to his side of the bed. His heart was pounding. Nothing was going to happen; Yuri was wrapped up in a fever and he needed to rest but that didn’t keep Victor from feeling like he was a virgin all over again. He had never felt this nervous around Yuri before, not when he’s offered to show Yuri the stars, not every other time that he’d been with his former fiancé, not when Yuri had moved in and they finally had been together for the first time. 

Victor lifted up the covers and slid underneath them. Yuri had rolled over to watch him. They weren’t even together, and even if they were, this was the most innocent thing in the world, but somehow it felt more intimate than anything Victor had every done with Yuri by far. His hands were shaking. He was lying next to Yuri now, and Yuri was sighing and closing his eyes and curling up to fall asleep. 

He was so close that Victor could have reached out and wrapped his arms around him. Would Yuri object if he did? 

But Yuri was sick, and they weren’t together, and Victor didn’t want to scare him off or push him too fast. He kept his hands to himself, even when they ached to reach out and brush the hair from Yuri’s face, to remind himself that Yuri was really here, to feel, somehow, that he could somehow control Yuri’s health by holding onto him. 

_“Ya lyublyu tebya,”_ Victor whispered in the darkness, _“na veki vechnyye. Pozhaluysta, bud'te zdorovy, moya lyubov, moye serdtse.”_

Yuri’s too hot breath caressed Victor cheeks. Victor set an alarm on his phone so he would know when to wake up and check Yuri’s temperature again then closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep, tried to tell himself that everything would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Yuri ~casually~ comes home with a fever. Silly boy, should have taken better care of himself. 
> 
> And if it's unclear, yes, Victor was referencing the first time he and Yuri slept together when he says "not when Yuri had moved in and they finally had been together for the first time"
> 
>  **Russian Translation:**  
>  _Ya lyublyu tebya na veki vechnyye_ : I love you forever and ever.  
>  _Pozhaluysta, bud'te zdorovy, moya lyubov, moye serdtse_ : Please be well, my love, my heart.


	70. TTToF: Chapter 70

When Victor’s alarm went off, he woke up Yuri. Yuri, as always, was reluctant. Victor tried to take this a good sign; Yuri hated waking up, ergo…Yuri was probably fine. Probably. Hopefully. Maybe. 

“I’ll be right back,” Victor assured Yuri. 

Yuri groaned in response. 

Victor collected the glass of water and the bottle of Ibuprofen as well as the thermometer from the living room. He jogged back to the bedroom and did his best not to spill the water on the floor. He set everything neatly on Yuri’s bedside table and crouched in front of Yuri. He pressed the back of his hand against Yuri’s forehead. Yuri watched him. He looked terrible. Victor swallowed and tried to focus on the cool precision of every step he needed to go through. 

Yuri was still incredibly hot. Hotter than before? It was hard to tell. Victor struggled to keep his breathing even and his hands steady. 

“Open,” he directed Yuri. 

Victor slipped the thermometer in. Waited. When it beeped, he took it out and checked the temperature. 

38.9. Shit. That was bad. That was really, really bad. The Ibuprofen should have brought the fever down. Victor could hear his heart pounding in his ears. 39.4 was when it was advisable to take someone to the hospital…but was this worth it? 

“Victor?” Yuri croaked. 

“I think I need take you to the hospital,” Victor said quietly. “This isn’t good, Yuri.” 

Yuri was quiet for a long time. Victor looked up from the thermometer to meet Yuri’s soft brown eyes, still hazy with fever. 

“Please don’t,” Yuri whispered. He looked like he was about to start crying. 

Victor couldn’t help himself; he reached out and brushed Yuri’s hair away from his eyes, off his forehead. He was burning up and more than a little sweaty. 

“But I’m worried about you,” Victor said. 

A tear slipped out of Yuri’s eye. “I don’t want to forget again,” he whispered. 

Victor’s heart skipped a beat. “I don’t know, Yuri.” 

_“Please,_ Victor,” Yuri begged. 

Well, that did it. Victor set the thermometer back on the night stand. He tapped out another Ibuprofen pill. Helped Yuri to take it. 

“How are you feeling?” Victor asked. Now that he had overcome his fear to touch Yuri, he couldn’t stop. He had one hand back on Yuri’s forehead, the other wrapped around Yuri’s hand, which barely peeked out from beneath the comforter. 

“Hot,” Yuri said. “And my head hurts.” 

“Are you dizzy?” 

“A little. Not much. Had worse.” 

Victor watched his thumb make circles Yuri’s hand. Yuri continued to stare at him. They were both still wearing the clothes they’d been in yesterday when Victor had come home. He hadn’t even considered helping Yuri change into pajamas. It had felt like an intrusion of some sort to even think about offering to. 

Victor glanced up at Yuri. His former fiancé was wearing his sweater, Victor’s sweater. Did he know that it was Victor’s and not care? Or was he still completely in the dark about the significance of that particular article of clothing? 

“Why do you wear that?” Victor asked. 

Yuri blinked at him, a sign Victor took to mean his confusion. 

“The sweater,” Victor clarified. 

Yuri shifted his head to look down at himself, and then back at Victor. 

“S’my lucky sweater,” he mumbled. 

Victor’s breath caught. Okay. So he hadn’t been expecting that. He smiled though. He was tempted to kiss Yuri right then and there, but he still wasn’t certain if that was okay to do. Yuri’s eyes were so hazy. 

“I’m going to get you a t-shirt,” Victor said quietly. “It might help you cool down a little.” 

Yuri gave a small and sleepy nod. Victor released his hand and stood up, wandered over to the dresser and pulled out an old shirt of his. Lucky sweater. Yuri called that sweater his lucky sweater. What did that mean? Would he still count it as lucky if he knew it was Victor’s? Or did that not matter to him? He walked back to the bed. 

“I’m going to need you to sit up a little,” Victor said. 

Yuri snaked his arms out from underneath the comforter. Victor helped pull him up until he was sitting, partially resting on the headboard. Yuri looked so exhausted, so fragile and weak. Even when he had been lying in the hospital, he hadn’t looked this bad. 

“Is it okay if I help you change?” Victor asked. 

Yuri nodded again. Victor reached out and grabbed the hem of the sweater. Was it the sickness or the contact that made Yuri’s breath catch when Victor’s knuckles brushed against the smooth plane of his stomach? Or had Victor imagined it entirely? Carefully, Victor worked Yuri out of the sweater. He tried not to react to the Yuri sitting before him, skinny and pale. This wasn’t what Yuri should look like. Victor was deeply and intimately familiar with every inch of Yuri’s body and looking at him now, when he was looking like this, felt…wrong. He needed to get Yuri healthy again. 

He picked up the t-shirt and slid it carefully over Yuri’s head, guiding Yuri’s arms carefully through the sleeves. Yuri sunk back under the covers and Victor pulled them up around him then picked up the sweater. It was a damp with Yuri’s sweat. He’d have to wash it, but Victor was happy to surrender its ownership to Yuri, just so long as that meant that Yuri would be well again. 

“If your fever gets any worse,” Victor said, “I’m taking you to hospital, like it or not, alright?” 

Yuri hummed something that might have been agreement. His eyes had fluttered closed. 

“I’ll be right back,” Victor said. “I’m just going to go change.” 

He was still in the street clothes he had worn home from the rink yesterday. Thank god he’d been too afraid to be in the shower when Yuri had come home and chosen to clean up right after practice in the locker room there. Victor grabbed his sweats and another t-shirt from the drawer then slipped into the bathroom. He changed quickly, and was about to slip back into the bedroom when a phone started ringing from the end table. His phone was still in the bedroom which meant… 

He checked the caller ID this time before answering. 

“Hello Theia,” he said in English. 

She chuckled. “Hello Victor.” 

“Yuri’s in bed,” Victor told her. “He has a fever.” 

“Well then, I’m glad he has you.” 

Theia’s voice was sweet and gentle. Victor’s heart glowed under her praise. He could understand why Yuri thought so highly of her. 

“I’m just glad he came back,” Victor admitted. “Even if it was with a fever.” 

“When did he get home?” Theia asked. 

Victor checked the time. “More than four hours ago. He was sitting on the couch burning up when I came back from practice. I gave him some Ibuprofen and he’s pretty much been sleeping ever since.” 

“Oh,” Theia said. 

Victor quietly wondered what she meant by that simple exclamation. She didn’t say anything for a long time. 

“I’ll tell him that you called when he wakes up,” Victor said when the silence became unbearable. 

“Right,” Theia said. “Victor—” 

Theia hesitated. Victor waited for her to finish her thought. 

“Please…take care of him?” she asked. “He’s been through so much and—” 

“I understand,” Victor said. Yuri _had_ been through a lot. And Theia cared about him; she wanted to make sure that she could trust Victor with Yuri’s life and well-being. She really was like a mother. 

“You do?” Theia said. She sounded pleasantly surprised. “Good. Well, I’ll talk to you later, Victor. Have Yuri call me when he can.” 

She hung up and the line went dead in Victor’s hand. He stayed still for a moment, leaning against the back of the couch, Yuri’s phone still clutched in his hand. 

Talking to Theia had reminded Victor of the unpleasant reality that Yuri might still leave him after all of this. He had built another life for himself. Without realizing it, Yuri had moved on. 

Victor set the phone gently down on the end table and padded back to the bedroom. He pushed open the door, and the sight that greeted him made his heart ache. Yuri was sound asleep again, chest rising and falling slowly with every breath he took. Victor paused for a moment at the end of the bed, just watching that miracle. Yuri was _here,_ back in Victor’s bed with Victor beside him, just like he was meant to be, and while they may not be together, it was something. Makkachin looked up from where he was curled up on the end of the bed. He thumped his tail twice. Victor scratched the poodle’s ears, and then slipped back into bed besides Yuri. 

_This could work,_ Victor thought. _I can do this._ We _can do this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things to note that have been going on in the background that aren't referenced later on because _someone_ decided to get impatient with me. 
> 
> **Here's the lowdown of what happened while Yuri was in Japan that's (kind of) important that Yuri doesn't get to talk about:**  
>  -Yuri talked to Theia and Maria about Victor  
> -Yuri explained everything that he remembers about his and Victor's relationship (whih understandably cleared up a lot of things for Theia  
> -Yuri explained that he still is kind of interested in getting back together with Victor  
> -Maria and Theia talked Yuri into appreciating that he needs to talk to Victor about what he's thinking/feeling
> 
> So Theia's last comment isn't so much about Yuri's health as it is his heart. She's trying to make sure that when Yuri comes clean, Victor doesn't break it.


	71. TTToF: Chapter 71

Victor was woken up by the shifting of the mattress beneath him. For a moment, he was disappointed. He’d been having a nice dream, after all, about being on a picnic with Yuri. He’d just suggested they go swimming. He blinked groggily awake. Yuri was sitting up in bed next to him, and Victor’s mind flashed back to another night, when Yuri had done the same, had kissed Victor and told him he was only going to get some water and Victor had accepted it blindly. 

“Yuri?” Victor croaked. His heart was pounding, though he wasn’t quite certain why. He started to get up. Yuri blinked down at him, then looked back up and around the room. He had put on his glasses, which meant he wasn’t completely out of it. 

“Yuri?” Victor asked again. He finished pulling himself into a sitting position. He considered on reaching out, touching Yuri’s arm, making his former fiancé focus on him. 

Yuri turned and looked back at Victor. He blinked again. His breathing was deep and even. 

“Water,” he said clearly. 

“What?” Victor asked. 

Yuri nodded to himself and shifted away from Victor. One of his feet hit the floor. Victor did his best to follow him across the bed, but it was a tangle of sheets and blankets. What time was it? Had his alarm gone off? The city outside the window was dark and sleepy. 

“Water,” Yuri insisted again, mostly to himself. 

“Yuri, I don’t understand,” Victor said. 

Yuri paused and looked back at Victor. He was poised to stand, both feet now on the floor, hands braced against the mattress, ready to push him up. He squeezed his eyes shut, and Victor could see his mind working, trying to find the right words. 

“I need…I’m out of water,” Yuri said. 

“Oh,” Victor said. “I can—” 

Yuri made to rise and Victor moved in response without completely processing the situation. 

“Yuri, I don’t think—” 

Yuri collapsed in Victor’s arms. Victor had managed to get one foot on the ground behind Yuri, and he was half on, half off the bed. Yuri’s head had hit him in the chin, and it throbbed a little, but Victor didn’t mind. They were both breathing heavily. Yuri was warm, but not burning as he had been earlier. Had his fever finally broken? 

Yuri shifted in Victor’s arms, but he didn’t try to get up again or free himself of Victor’s support. Victor could see his breath rustling the hair above Yuri’s ear. Should he let go? Was Yuri waiting for him to? 

“I just want some water,” Yuri said. His voice sounded funny. Victor wished he could see Yuri’s face. 

“Let me help you,” Victor said. “Please. I can help you.” 

Yuri was quiet for a long moment, and then he nodded. His hair brushed up against Victor’s chin and nose and mouth when he did. Victor tried very hard to remember how to breathe. 

“Your balance is better when you skate?” Victor asked. 

Yuri nodded again. “Yes,” he said. “You wearing socks?” 

Another nod and another yes. 

“Okay,” Victor replied, a plan already formulating in his mind. “On three, push off your right foot, like you’re skating. I’ll hold onto you. Ready?” 

Yuri nodded again, but didn’t say anything this time. 

“One, two, three,” Victor counted off. They pushed off together and slid forward. 

Victor had to admit, all things considered, his plan worked pretty well. He held onto Yuri and together they made it through the open door and into the living area. Victor directed Yuri to the couch and helped him to sit down. Once Yuri was settled, Victor took the empty glass from Yuri’s hand. 

“I’ll get this for you,” he said. 

Yuri nodded and closed his eyes. Hands freed, he buried his face in them. Victor hesitated a moment, then went to the kitchen and filled up the glass from the tap in the fridge. He brought it back to Yuri and Yuri took it silently. Victor watched him drink for a moment, then padded back to the bedroom, picked up his phone and then the thermometer from Yuri’s nightstand. 

Yuri still had his head in his hands when Victor came back, and they carried out the by now familiar ritual of Victor checking Yuri’s temperature. It was a smidge higher than the normal 37, but still. Far better than it had been. 

“Your fever’s gone,” Victor told Yuri. 

Yuri flashed him a thumbs up. He had returned his face to his hands. 

“What did you mean earlier,” Victor asked, “when you said that you didn’t want to go to the hospital because you didn’t want to forget again?” 

Yuri looked up. He blinked at Victor. “I said what?” he asked. 

Victor’s heart dropped out. How fever addled had his brain been? 

“You asked me not to take you to the hospital because you didn’t want to forget again.” 

Yuri’s eyes focused on something Victor couldn’t see. 

“I didn’t know who I was when I woke up,” Yuri said. His voice was distance and had a funny tone to it. “I didn’t know a lot of things. Simple stuff, even.” 

He took a deep breath and shuddered a little, then focused back on Victor. 

“Every time I wake up in a hospital, I wonder if it’s going to be like that again. If someone’s going to ask me a question that I should know the answer to and I won’t.” 

Victor nodded. It didn’t feel like a silly thing to be afraid of. What Yuri had been through while he’d been away…Victor couldn’t even begin to comprehend it. He should have been there for Yuri to help him along. He should have been one of the first faces Yuri saw after Yuri woke up. He knew how Yuri felt because he, Victor, constantly lived in fear that if Yuri walked away, he would never come back. Yuri sniffed and looked away. Victor settled onto the couch. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Now that Yuri was up, he was too. 

“Theia called,” Victor said. “While you were sleeping.” 

“What’d she want?” 

“I imagine to talk to you,” Victor said. “Doesn’t she call you a lot?” 

Yuri chuckled. _“Maria_ calls me a lot. Theia usually just texts me; she doesn’t like to be a hassle. She only calls if she’s worried about me.” 

Victor frowned. “Why would she be worried about you?” 

Yuri was silent for what felt like an eternity. Victor watched as he picked a loose thread on the blanket thrown over the back of the couch. 

“She thinks I’m depressed,” Yuri said quietly. 

“Are you?” Victor asked. 

Another chuckle, but it was humorless this time. “I might be,” Yuri admitted. “I don’t know anymore. I don’t know anything anymore.” 

Victor waited for Yuri to continue. He looked on patiently as Yuri’s jaw worked a little and Yuri swallowed. 

“I’m not sure who I’m supposed to be anymore,” Yuri said, and his voice was mostly even. “When I woke up without any memories, I wanted to be the person everyone else wanted to me to be, and a tried for a long time to do that, but it was suffocating. Like, there were days where it literally felt like I was slowly dying under all the unspoken expectations. But then I discovered skating again. All on my own; no one told me about it, no one showed me. And I thought to myself, maybe this is who I can be now. Maybe I can start over here and work forward. I can’t go back to who I was, but I can go on.” 

“That’s what your free skate was about,” Victor said. 

Yuri sniffed again and nodded. “And as I went through that—” 

His voice sounded strange again. Victor waited as Yuri swallowed and started again. 

“As I went through that, I started building up this new life with people who didn’t expect me to be who I had been and who supported the person I was now. And it was really, really good. It was better than good, actually. I felt like I could finally breathe again. I was excited about something other than skating.” 

Yuri paused. Victor knew what was coming next, but he knew he couldn’t be the one to say it. 

“And then,” Yuri gestured hopelessly before letting his hand collapse on his lap again. “And then everything at the Finals happened, and it was like if the rug was pulled out from under me. I remembered more. And now…now I don’t know if I want to go _back_ because I think I know how I could or if I want to keep going _on._ I don’t know what I want from myself. I don’t know what to do. I just—” 

Yuri was crying now, first a single tear and then another one and then a stream of them down his face. Victor focused on the couch cushion. He had gotten used to Yuri crying in front of him, but that had been before everything had become so complicated. Then, he wouldn’t have hesitated to reach out, pull Yuri closer, kiss away his tears, even, but what was he supposed to do now? Yuri was clearly confused about everything going on in his life. Victor didn’t want to compound that. Still, though, he should do _something._ The problem was what? 

The very first time he’d ever seen Yuri really cry, it had been his fault. Yuri had practically screamed at him, too. ‘You don't have to say anything. Just stay by my side,’ Yuri had said. Well… 

Victor scooted closed to Yuri on the couch. 

“Yuri…” he said. He hesitated for a moment. 

_Screw it,_ he thought. He reached out and put a hand on Yuri’s shoulder. To his surprise, Yuri leaned into him, although he didn’t stop crying. Victor wrapped his other arm around Yuri and held on tight. Yuri continued to sob into his chest. Victor ran his hands up and down Yuri’s back. He could feel the suggestion of the nobs of Yuri’s bent spine through the thin t-shirt. 

_“Ya zdes,”_ Victor whispered into Yuri’s hair. He didn’t know if Yuri could hear him, and he knew Yuri couldn’t understand what he was saying besides, but he said it anyways. _“Ya vsegda budu zdes. Do tekh por, kak vy nuzhdayetes vo mne, ya budu zdes.”_

Eventually, Yuri’s sobs turned to snuffles. Victor continued to rub Yuri’s back in slow circles. Victor’s heart was left feeling as empty as his arms when Yuri at last pulled away, but he let Yuri go. He sat by as Yuri wiped his nose on the hem of the t-shirt. He could only do so much, after all. 

“I’m still missing a lot,” Yuri confessed. “Learning to skate. Parts of my childhood. Growing up. College. How we met. You and me. There are so many gaps.” 

Victor waited. Yuri looked over at him. 

“I'm not sure what I want,” he said. “And I don’t know who I’m supposed to be or what I’m supposed to do.” 

“That’s okay,” Victor replied. 

“I need time.” 

“Okay.” 

Yuri nodded. He looked away and wiped his eyes again. When he stood, he was steady. Victor looked up at him. 

“I’m going back to bed,” Yuri said. “Practice tomorrow.” 

“Okay,” Victor said. And then: 

“I’ll be there in a minute.” 

Because he knew that’s what he was supposed to say, because that was what Yuri needed him to say. Yuri nodded again and wandered off. Victor sat there alone for a moment in the living room. So much had happened here. So many of the really key moments of his life had been played out here in this room, on and around this couch. Watching Yuri skate “Stay Close to Me.” Being with Yuri for the first time. The barrier that had stood between them when Yuri had left. And now this. 

He had brought the apartment with some of the prize money from his first season. He had wanted his own space that he could call his own. He had wanted somewhere that he could firmly call home. And over the years, it had been many things, and the appearance had changed with his whims, but it had never really been a home until Yuri had stumbled innocently into his life. Victor wanted it to stay a home. But he couldn’t force Yuri down one path or another when Yuri so clearly needed time and space. 

Victor rose and turned out the lights, then slipped back into the bedroom. Yuri was asleep again. Makkachin was curled up in the space made by the bend of Yuri’s knees. For a moment, it was as if Yuri had never left. The curtain was open, and the ambient light from the city painted Yuri gold. Gold across his temples, his eyelids, his cheeks, his lips. Gold along the small mountains of his knuckles poking out from beneath the comforter. Gold along the smooth curve of his inside arm bent along the mattress in front of him and gold pooled in the palm of his hand. 

It was the most beautiful thing Victor had ever seen. 

He walked around to his side of the bed and slid beneath the covers. Whatever Yuri decided in the end, whether it was to stay with Victor or to leave. However much time he needed to make that decision, Victor would let him have it. He would give anything to never have Yuri cry again, to only ever have Yuri’s face painted with wide, bright smiles. Every one of his gold medals, his skates, anything. None of it mattered as much as the gentle grace of Yuri peaceful and happy at long last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, fam. I was watching _About Time_ with my mom. Please, take a moment now (if you've seen it) to imagine Yuri and Victor. Victor is Mary. Yuri is Tim. Yes? Yes. If you haven't seen it, take a moment to find a way to rent it. Worth the watch. 
> 
> **Russian Translation:**  
>  _Ya zdes_ : I'm here  
>  _Ya vsegda budu zdes_ : I will always be here  
>  _Do tekh por, kak vy nuzhdayetes vo mne, ya budu zdes_ : As long as you need me, I will be here.


	72. TTToF: Chapter 72

They slept in a little before practice the next day. Neither of them elected to comment on the unspoken agreement they had reached sometime the night before. In fact, they barely spoke to one another at all, but moved around each other as they ate and prepared for the day like if it was a practiced routine, like if nothing had happened at all. 

When they arrived at the rink, Victor explained Yuri’s fever and used it as a reason for their tardiness. Yakov considered them both carefully before he said anything. Victor resisted the urge to squirm under his coach’s careful gaze. It was like if Yakov knew everything that had happened the night before and he was judging them for it. 

“How was Japan?” Yakov asked at last, directing his attention to Yuri. 

“Silver,” Yuri replied. “I didn’t feel well and I couldn’t focus.” 

“Hm.” 

“The hospital called yesterday to remind me I’m supposed to come in today,” Yuri continued. 

“I can take you,” Victor offered. His heart sunk a little at the realization that Yuri might not have come back for him, but because he had to. For the hospital. Because his life had been turned upside down when he’d had the accident. 

“Yurio will take him,” Yakov said. 

“I thought Yurio was in Kazakhstan,” Victor retorted. 

“He wanted to go to Kazakhstan” Yakov snapped back. “But he has the European Championships to think about.” 

“And he just accepted that?” 

Yakov scowled. “He brought his boyfriend back with him.” 

Victor’s jaw dropped. That was a level of cheek even he hadn’t ever achieved. Sure, he had been excited when Yuri moved in with him last spring and had come to skate on his ice, but he was Yuri’s coach. It made sense for Yuri to be there. 

“Beautiful,” Victor said. 

Yakov scowl deepened. “Get on the ice, Vitya. Yuri isn’t the only one who needs to practice.” 

Not the least bit humbled, Victor wandered over to the bench to pull on his skates. Yuri was still loitering by Yakov. Victor paused once he had laced up his first skate to look at the pair of them. 

“You have a question,” Yakov said. 

“I need help,” Yuri replied. 

Victor sat up a little more. What did Yuri need help with? Why was he asking Yakov instead of Victor? Did it have something to do with him? 

_“Now,_ Vitya,” Yakov muttered. 

Victor grabbed his other skate with a sigh. He shot another glance at Yuri, but the other man was leaning around the barriers surrounding the rink, clearly waiting to speak to Yakov alone. So it probably did have something to do with him, then. Victor’s heart thudded. He tried to reassure himself that this could be a good thing, that whatever Yuri wanted to talk to Yakov about could be good, but his mind was coming up with an endless supply of worse-case scenarios. Maybe he wanted Yakov to fill in some of his blanks about what had happened with the two of them. Maybe Yuri wanted to leave and he needed Yakov’s help breaking it to Victor. Maybe he had already decided to leave and now was telling Yakov about it. 

Skates on, Victor stood. He hesitated, silently pleading that Yuri give him some sort of sign about what he needed help with. Yuri didn’t look up, just scuffed the toe of his shoe against the floor. Yakov glared on Victor, and Victor stepped out onto the ice. He tried to put everything from his mind as he started warming up, but it was hard. No matter where he went on the rink, his eyes sought out Yuri and Yakov as he desperately tried to divine what Yuri needed. 

Yurio grumbled loudly when Yakov called him over. Victor watched as he abandoned Beka to go to the edge of the rink, and then as he and Yakov had a heated argument. For a moment, Victor thought that Yakov would give in and let Yurio stay with Beka and allow Victor to go with Yuri to the hospital, but then Yurio’s shoulders slumped and he came off the ice. Beka skated up next to Victor. 

“Where’s he going?” he asked. 

“Yuri has a doctor’s appointment,” Victor replied. “I was going to take him but Yakov said no.” 

“He is very dedicated,” Bekka said. 

Victor glanced at him. His eyes had been tracking Yuri as he loped easily after Yurio’s sharp and angry figure. 

“Yurio?” 

“Your coach. Yakov. He works very hard to make sure you all do well. I don’t think he would mind that I’m here, but he thinks that Yurio allows himself to be distracted by me.” 

“Oh,” Victor said. 

He glanced back at Yakov, who had turned back to the rink to issue directions to Mila. Victor wasn’t really sure what to say to Beka. On reflection, it was true. Yakov had always done everything he could to make sure all of the Petersburg skaters were focused on the podium and the prize and not on fleeting distractions. It was why he had gotten Lilia to work with Yurio last season. It was why he hidden Yuri from Victor. To a certain extent, Yakov’s attitude had shaped Victor’s; it was why, for so long, Victor had abandoned his own life and happiness out of skating. It had taken leaving Petersburg and being with Yuri to reclaim it. 

“What’s your coach like?” Victor asked, because he didn’t know what else to say. 

Beka frowned. “Different, but I do not mean to criticize Yakov; he is a good man, and he has helped you all to be incredible skaters.” 

“But at what cost?” Victor asked. 

Bkka shrugged. “I think he is going to yell at us if we don’t start skating soon.” 

He pushed off and Victor watched him go before glancing helplessly through the doors Yuri and Yurio had disappeared through. Was it fair that Yakov coached them all the way he did? Maybe not, but he certainly got results that other coaches only dreamed of, and for the majority of his life, Victor had been happy with that. It wasn’t until he met Yuri and discovered a life away from the ice that he had wanted more. 

“Vitya!” Yakov shouted. 

With sigh, Victor pushed off and started skating again. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he lost Yuri again. The thought of the void waiting for him at the end of this season was terrifying. He needed to figure out where he and Yuri stood, at least so he could start working some semblance of a plan out, but how could he even begin to talk to Yuri? Yuri needed time and space, and how could he know how much of Victor’s life currently depended on his decisions? Not to mention, even so much as _telling_ Yuri where he, Victor, stood on everything felt presumptuous and pushy and terrifying. 

Everything depended on Yuri taking the next step. Victor tried not to think about Yuri’s track record with opening up to other people. If he did, he would have lost all hope entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand I think it was right around here that Yuri started getting impatient with me. Which, I mean, is fair. The first half of this got written in a week. The second half was drawn out over three, whenever I could find the time and wasn't getting buried under classwork. To say it was written "sporadically" is putting it lightly. I remember texting Muse one afternoon though and going "Okay, yeah, wow, this is going to be done sooner than I thought."
> 
> Which is great. Like, it was getting long. I appreciate that it needed to end eventually. And I had other stuff to work on too.
> 
> But Yuri, babe. _What about Victor?_
> 
> Victor had just resigned himself to the fact that Yuri might never come back. And then Yuri _did_ come back but he was sick so they couldn't talk. Then they did talk but it was mostly about Yuri's needing time which, as I just said, didn't end up happening. Now, Yuri's not saying anything when there's clearly something on his mind. And that's not even counting all the pent up problems that Victor has left over from Yuri just up and leaving without any clear, logical explanation last spring. and on top of it, he's afraid to talk to Yuri about all of that. So is Victor _still_ and emotional mess right now?
> 
> Yes.  
> And that's what the companion is going to be about.*
> 
> *I have the actual "conversation" I had with each of them in the end notes somewhere. It's funny, in a depressing sort of way.


	73. TTToF: Chapter 73

“You need to talk to him,” Yurio said. 

Yuri didn’t respond. They were walking back to the rink from the sandwich stop that Yurio had wanted to get lunch at after the doctor’s appointment. Yuri had picked at his food. He had felt a little hungrier than usual, but even that wasn’t much these days. His appetite, which had barely begun to recover from its loss following his accident, had become even worse since everything that had happened at the Grand Prix Finals. He needed to eat more, but some nameless emotion haunted his heart and made his stomach roll every time he so much looked at a full meal. 

“Did you hear me, Katsudon?” Yurio asked. 

“I heard you,” Yuri said. 

“So are you going to talk to him then or not?” 

Yuri scuffed his toe along the sidewalk. Kicked a stray piece of ice away from him. “Don't get me wrong, Yurio. I want to talk to him. I know I need to. I just don’t know _how_ to talk to him or how to even begin to approach the subject. I still don’t know what happened between us. I don’t even remember meeting him, although I’ve been remembering a lot more here and there.” 

“Like what?” 

“I don’t know. Watching him eat katsudon, I think probably for the first time. Finishing a skate and him kissing me. He and Chris jumping in bed with me after they’d gone swimming. Random stuff.” 

“So then you don’t remember…” Yurio trailed off. 

Yuri glanced at him. “Don’t remember what?” 

Yurio shook his head. “Nothing. It’s in the past; it doesn’t matter.” 

Yuri studied the younger boy for a moment. “Alright,” he said at last. 

They walked along. St. Petersburg, Yuri noted, was cold in winter. He shivered a little. Was it better in spring? Summer? Did it have the same sticky heat as Hasetsu, or was it cool and breezy? Maybe he had known once, but he could barely remember living in St. Petersburg now. He had that first memory, of he and Victor presumably when he’d moved in. And there were a million more small ones of just…living in the apartment. Spending time with Makkachin. Last night when he’d woken up and his fever had broken, he had remembered doing the same before and sneaking out to go skating while Victor still slept. 

_Why,_ he had no idea. But he could remember doing it. It was confusing. Most days he was torn between hoping someone would clue him into what had happened between he and Victor that had caused them to be separated when Yuri had lost his memories and being terrified that someone would. What if something terrible had happened? Despite everything, despite regaining all these memories where he had had a life with Victor, the memories that Yuri relied on most often when he thought of Victor were the new ones they had made: dancing together, walking through St. Petersburg together, Victor bringing Yuri to the ice for his free skate at the finals, Victor holding onto him, comforting him, while he cried. 

Seeing Victor for the first time and how his heart sang of home in the same way it did when he stepped onto the ice. 

Could he be with Victor now and forsake their past, no matter how terrible it may have been? Did Victor still even want to be with him? Sure, he’d allowed Yuri to stay in his apartment and sleep in his bed and he’d taken care of Yuri last night, but Yuri had collapsed in Victor’s arms. He hadn’t exactly come back to Victor and asked him if he could stay. Victor may only be doing all of that because he felt like he had to. 

“You realizing you’re just delaying the inevitable, right?” Yurio asked. 

Yuri squirmed a little. He scratched the back of his head. Maybe he wanted to delay the inevitable, if the inevitable was he and Victor once again their separate ways. 

“What would I even say?” Yuri asked. “That I…” 

That he what? He wasn’t sure that what he was feeling for Victor was love; he couldn’t remember exactly what being in love was supposed to feel like. But it was something, and he didn’t want to risk losing it. 

“Just tell him how you feel.” 

“I don’t know how I feel.” 

“Bullshit,” Yurio retorted. “You feel something; it’s written all over your face the moment Victor isn’t looking at you.” 

“I don’t know what that is, though.” 

“Then describe it to him!” Yuri cried, throwing up his arms. “You don’t have to put a label on it if you’re afraid too, but please, for the love of God, do something!” 

Yuri looked away. “I don’t want to lose him,” he said quietly. 

“If you’re honest with him, you won’t.” Yurio grumbled back. 

“How do you know, Yurio?” Yuri asked. His throat felt thick, like if he was about to cry. “Everything’s so complicated now. How do we even begin to get through that?” 

Yurio opened his mouth, closed it. Considered what he was going to say carefully. “It’s in the past,” he said stubbornly. “It shouldn’t matter. What matters is how you feel now.” 

“Hm.” Yuri replied. They had reached the rink. He pulled the door open and waited for Yurio to walk in before he followed. 

“I’ll think about it,” Yuri said as they reached the doors leading to the rink itself. 

“Think faster,” Yurio grumbled as he slammed the door open. He walked off once the cool air hit them. Yuri stood there for a moment, watching his retreating back. Talk to Victor. The task seemed impossible. Yakov walked up beside him. 

“How was the appointment?” Yakov asked in heavy English. 

Yuri peeled his eyes off of Yurio and turned to look at the old man. 

“Fine,” Yuri said. “There’s nothing really wrong with me. There was a lot of stuff that neither Yurio or I understood, or if Yurio understood, he didn’t feel like translating, but that’s the gist of it.” 

“Will you go back to Japan then?” Yakov asked. 

Yuri hesitated, looked back at the ice. His eyes immediately found Victor. “I don’t really want to,” Yuri said, turning back to Yakov. “Not if I don’t have to.” 

“Hm,” Yakov said. 

Yuri waited. He scratched at the back of his head. Looked at the ground. He waited for the old man to tell him what to do. It felt wrong to leave Yakov without having received orders. 

“I have thought about your problem,” Yakov said. Yuri glanced up at him. 

“What do you think?” Yuri asked. 

Yakov handed him a folder scrap of paper. Yuri unfolded it. Something was written on it in Russian. 

“Victor,” Yakov translated. “That is your answer. Do you understand?” 

An idea so vague it could have been a cloud flittered across Yuri’s mind. “Maybe,” he said. 

“Go for a run,” Yakov instructed. “Think about it.” 

Yuri pocketed the scrap of paper neatly. Running. Yes. Next to skating, that was what helped him clear his mind the most. 

“Should I leave my stuff here?” he asked. 

Yakov shrugged. “If you do, and you don’t come back before practice ends, I’ll have Vitya take it with him.” 

“And if I come back before practice ends?” 

Yakov frowned. “Run until you have thought about it and have made a decision. Then come back. Yes?” 

“Yes,” Yuri agreed. He dropped his stuff on the ground in front of Yakov. “Victor’s probably going to need to take this home.” 

Yakov smiled, and Yuri got the feeling he understood more about Yuri’s life, about Victor’s life, about their shared life, than the two of them did even. 

“That’s what I thought,” the old coach said. “Now get going.” 

Yuri gave him a fleeting parting smile and headed off through the doors at a light jog. He tried to focus on the idea that was as light as cloud. He tried to wrap his mind around what Yakov was suggesting. When he hit the sidewalk, he lost himself to the streets of the golden city.


	74. TTToF: Chapter 74

Yuri wasn’t there when Yakov called an end to practice, although Yurio had returned. Beka gave him a piggyback ride out of the rink while Yurio glared at Yakov. Victor smiled at Yakov’s long suffering sigh. He put up with a lot, from all of them. Skaters were dramatic people; it was the nature of the sport. It was just as emotionally demanding as anything else. Victor was about to slip through the doors to check and see if Yuri was in the weight room when Yakov stopped him. He dropped Yuri’s athletic bag in front of Victor. 

“He went running. He should show up at your apartment eventually.” 

Victor looked down at the bag, then back at Yakov. 

“He went running,” Victor said flatly. Was Yuri trying to avoid him? Was that what this was about? Had he found out today that he no longer had to check in at the hospital and was planning on returning to Japan? 

“It’s good for thinking. He needed to think.” 

“About what?” Victor demanded. How best to rip Victor’s heart out all over again? 

Yakov’s frowned. “I think that is his business. If he wants to share it with you, he will.” 

Victor’s heart sank. It didn’t matter then, how much he wanted to be part of Yuri’s life. In the end, it would always be like this: him being forced to the sidelines as Yuri tried to go it alone. Victor started when Yakov reached out and placed a comforting arm on Victor’s shoulder. 

“Have faith, Vitya,” Yakov said. “All will be well.” 

Faith? Victor’s faith, his religion, had always been the sound of his skates on the ice, the feel of cool air pushing through his hair with every movement, the breathless freedom of a perfect jump. He wanted to laugh. How could he find faith, find comfort in the ice when he was about to lose Yuri again? When he was going to lose that religion with the end of this season. The void he had felt earlier swelled and threatened to consume him. He pulled away from Yakov without a word and picked up Yuri’s athletic bag. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Victor said dully. 

He walked off. He could feel Yakov’s eyes on him, but his old coach didn’t call him back or try to encourage him as he had so many times before. Perhaps he felt, as Victor did, that the situation was now out of his hands. 

Victor walked home alone through the park, the void gnawing restlessly at his soul. He needed to talk to Yuri. He couldn’t talk to Yuri. He needed Yuri to talk to him. But how could he possibly begin to nudge Yuri in that direction? He didn’t have Hasetsu’s beach. He couldn’t wait forever for Yuri to fill the silence between them. 

Makkachin greeted Victor at the door. Yuri wasn’t home yet. Victor went about making dinner for the two of them. He needed to focus on something simple, something manageable. He couldn’t worry about losing Yuri or the pending doom of Yuri’s departure from his life once again. Yuri needed to eat more. He could work on fixing that. Nothing too big, small steps. Something warm and hearty and that would fill up the soul. 

Stroganoff. It was cliché, but his mother had always made it for him when he was younger and feeling down. She had the best recipe, and he had it copied down somewhere. Pirozhki too. They wouldn’t be as good as Yurio’s grandfather’s, but he knew how to make them. And just the thought of eating them lifted his heart up a little. Good, strong basic comfort foods. He could do this. 

Makkachin sat next to his legs while Victor set about getting dinner ready. Every now and then, he would throw down a scrap of food and Makkachin would gobble it up. He wished he knew how to make something Japanese, something that meant as much to Yuri as stroganoff and pirozhki meant to Victor. He wanted—no, he _needed_ —Yuri to understand that he would stand by Yuri no matter what. But he couldn’t say that outright, because Yuri wanted space and time and Victor had to let Yuri make the next move. 

The sound of the key sliding into the lock filled the apartment just as Victor was finishing up. His heart was pounding in his throat. He grabbed a dish towel and wiped off his hands, then followed Makkachin into the living room. Yuri was standing frozen at the door, a curious expression on his face. He was looking at the living room like if it was the first time he had ever seen it and he had no idea how he had ended up there. 

“Yuri?” Victor asked. Yuri standing there was making him nervous, and his voice betrayed him. He couldn’t help but think of another night when Yuri had paused at the door and looked across the living room without really seeing it. 

Yuri’s eyes snapped to Victor and his expression shifted. His brow was wrinkled, as if he was trying to work out a problem. He stared at Victor for a long minute and Victor stood there, heart pounding as it had on another night, waiting for some unspeakable horror. 

“I was just finishing dinner,” Victor said. 

Yuri blinked. His brow was still furrowed. He glanced back at the living room, and then at Victor and nodded. He dropped his keys onto the side table and walked towards the kitchen. Victor unconsciously retreated to the stove to check on everything. He knew he wasn’t a very cook, but he knew enough when he lived alone to feed himself and then both he and Yuri later. When he glanced up again, Yuri was leaning against his usual spot at the island, watching him silently. Memory washed over him. 

_“What are you thinking?”_

_“That I like watching you cook.”_

In the present, Victor said: 

“How was your run?” 

Yuri shrugged, pulled away from the counter. “Cold. Yakov is crazy.” 

Victor nodded. He wanted to ask what Yuri had needed to think about and if he had reached any solid conclusions, but that would betray too much of what Yakov had told him. The reason why Yuri had gone running seemed like a private affair. Like Yuri’s rendition of “Stay Close to Me,” had been meant to be. 

“I’m going to take a shower,” Yuri said, turning away. 

“Alright,” Victor replied. “This should be ready when you’re done.” 

Yuri slipped off. Victor turned back to cooking. When he heard the water come on, he tried not think about Yuri in the shower and the temptation of joining him. But those days were gone now, and Victor needed to put them out of his mind. If he didn’t pay attention to what he was doing, he was going to burn something. He finished dinner. Yuri came out of the shower. They ate on the couch, plates in their laps. Something about eating in the kitchen felt too stiff and formal for the casual rhythm they had developed around each other following the events of the previous night. 

Had it really only been last night that Yuri had come home and Victor had found him with a fever? It seemed impossible that it had only been twenty-four hours ago, but there it was. 

They didn’t talk to each other while they ate, although Victor’s eyes often fluttered to Yuri to make sure he was eating. His eyes kept catching on little details of Yuri too; the way his wet hair dampened the neck of the long-sleeved t-shirt he had pulled on, the way his knuckles curved around the handle of his fork, the little bruises displayed on his bare feet tucked underneath him, an angry declaration of the pains of being a professional skater. Victor watched and waited as Yuri slowly finished off everything on his plate, down to the last crumb of the pirozhki. He was silently proud to have made something that Yuri had consumed entirely. 

“How was the doctor?” Victor asked. 

Yuri shrugged and set his plate aside. He rubbed his temple with three of his fingers. “Fine,” he said. 

“How bad is it? Your headache?” 

Victor was learning. Slowly but surely, he was learning Yuri’s new language. Yuri glanced over at Victor, as if he had realized this too. He considered Victor for a moment, as if trying to divine how Victor had acquired this knowledge. 

“Not too bad,” he said. 

“Big one?” 

Yuri shook his head. “I don’t know. Not little, but not big either. It’s getting there, but it’s not awful, and it’s not going to be.” 

“How often do you get headaches?” 

Yuri’s smile was weak. “Often enough that I can tell when it’s going to be bad and when it’s not. Don’t worry about it; I’ve gotten used to it.” 

Victor frowned. “You shouldn’t have to get used to it.” 

Yuri chuckled. “But that’s life for me, Victor. It’s not a matter of whether I want to get used to it or not, it’s just how things are.” 

“Hm,” Victor hummed tightly. He rose, his plate in one hand. He stepped over and picked up Yuri’s as well. Yuri remained curled up in his corner of the couch, although he leaned his head back to look up at Victor. 

“It’s probably not good that you get headaches that often,” Victor said. 

“Probably not,” Yuri agreed. “Although it’s not that often these days. It was worse before.” 

“If you say so.” 

“I do.” 

They continued to stare at each other for another few seconds before Victor walked off to the kitchen. He set the plates neatly in the sink then started looking for dish soap so he could wash them. 

“Victor,” Yuri called from the couch. 

Victor backtracked towards the living room. Yuri looked at him over the back of the couch. 

“Thank you for making dinner,” he said. Victor watched as he pulled himself to his feet, watched at Yuri stepped around the couch then headed towards the bedroom. When he reached the door, he paused, looked over at where Victor had remained rooted in place. He smiled one of those soft private smiles he had once saved just for Victor. 

“It was good,” he added before slipping through the bedroom door. He closed it behind him with a soft click. 

Victor stared at the space Yuri had just occupied for a moment before shaking his head to clear it of the haze that had swept over him. Yuri had liked his cooking. 

Okay. That was something. Victor found the dish soap and carefully cleaned off the plates. He loaded all the pots and pans he had used to make dinner into the dishwasher and got it started. He could sleep on the couch again tonight, fall back into the system he and Yuri had adopted pre-fever, but he didn’t want to. Yuri had liked his cooking, and he had smiled, but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t going to up and leave any day now. Sleeping on the couch seemed like a waste. 

Victor padded softly towards the bedroom and slowly opened the door. Yuri had already changed and gone to sleep. He was lying in bed, facing away from the windows. His glasses were folded up neatly on his nightstand. The curtain was closed. Victor came the rest of the way into the room and changed quietly before slipping under the covers next to Yuri. He could have been imagining it, but he thought he saw Yuri smile as he pulled the covers back up over them. 

_“Spokoynoy nochi, lyubov moya,”_ Victor whispered. He resisted the urge to kiss the tip Yuri’s nose. 

Victor’s eyes fluttered shut. _“Sladkiye mechty.”_

Sleep overtook him, and Victor happily sank into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Russian Translation:**  
>  _Spokoynoy nochi, lyubov' moya,:_ Good night my love  
>  _Sladkiye mechty:_ Sweet dreams
> 
> For anyone wondering, the piggyback line is one of my favorites. The level of sass...unreal.


	75. TTToF: Chapter 75

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early chapter tonight because I'm going out with a fellow writer friend of mine who is one of my biggest heroes and meeting her ~~imaginary~~ totally real boyfriend. Bowling was mentioned, which means things should get interesting. Wish me luck fam, and enjoy the chapter...
> 
> Remember also that I can't count and that the epilogue will be published late tomorrow night!

The two of them carried out the same silent routine the next morning as they had for the morning before. Victor woke up first and started making breakfast. A few minutes later, Yuri wandered into the kitchen to watch. They ate. They changed. They jogged through the park and to the rink together. Yakov was talking to Grigori when they walked in, but he shooed the younger man off when he saw Yuri and Victor. 

“How was your run?” Yakov asked. “Did you think about what I suggested?” 

Yuri glanced around the rink, at the other skaters, at the city gleaming through the big windows on the other side of the rink. His eyes landed briefly on Victor. He turned back to Yakov. 

“Yes,” he said. 

“And what did you decide?” 

Yuri fiddled with the strap of his athletic bag. He let it go and looked up again. 

“I agree,” he said. 

Yakov nodded. “Get on the ice. Warm up. I want to see every jump from that program.” 

“Which version?” Yuri asked, his legs already carrying him towards the benches. 

Yakov considered. “Sapporo. We can work on the other one later.” 

Yuri gave a sharp nod and sat down. Yakov stared at Victor. 

“Do you need anything, Vitya?” 

Victor hesitated, then shook his head. He sat down on the bench and started lacing up his skates just as Yuri got up. He paused for a moment to watch Yuri step onto the ice. He watched as Yuri considered the ice for a moment, and then feel into skating, listening to some sort of music only he could hear. Watching Yuri skate was always breathtaking. Victor tore his eyes away and finished lacing up his skates. 

He hoped that Yuri chose to stay. He hoped that Yuri still loved him, or still wanted to be in love with him. 

Victor stepped onto the ice and began warming up. It was nothing as beautiful as what Yuri was doing, he knew, but it wasn’t bad. All he had left were the European and the World championships. And then he would be done. If he was lucky, he would get to retire and coach Yuri and live happily ever after, and despite everything, Victor very desperately wanted to believe in happily ever after’s. He heard Yakov call Yuri off the ice, but he kept skating. 

_Have faith, Vitya._

A small smile in the darkness. That was Victor’s faith now. As fragile as it was, he would lean on it with everything he had. 

A few minutes later, Yakov called everyone off the ice. 

“I need to see just Yuri,” he said. 

Everyone came off. Some people grumbled. Some headed off towards the weight room or to get water or to text their friends. Beka and Yurio came off holding hands and fell into place next to Yakov. Victor stood at Yakov’s other side. It was rare for Yakov to allow only one skater on the ice at a time. Usually, he just advised everyone else to make room. Victor, to say the least, was intrigued. 

Yakov fiddled with his phone for a minute. When he had found what he was looking for, he flashed a thumbs up. Yuri raised his arm in recognition. Yakov hit play when Yuri started skating. 

It was his free skate. But it wasn’t. Something essential had changed, though Victor couldn’t quite put his finger on what. It almost felt like a pair skate that Yuri was skating to alone, but that wasn’t entirely right either. Every one of his jumps was perfect, but that wasn’t the point. The point was the emotion he was trying to convey, the story he was trying to tell. 

“It’s about me,” Victor realized. “And him. Us. What we lost.” 

Yakov didn’t say anything, although Victor knew he was making mental notes about Yuri’s skating. When Yuri had finished, he skated slowly over to the four of them clustered together. 

“What do you think?” Yakov asked. 

“Better,” Yuri said. He didn’t look at Victor. “Exactly what it needed.” 

He paused, considered. “What I needed,” he added quietly. 

Yakov nodded in agreement. Yuri focused on the ice. Victor watched him kick at it a little with his toe pick. He could feel his old coach’s eyes on him. 

“And now, I think I will let you two talk,” Yakov said. 

He started walking away. Yurio and Otabek lingered for a second, and then Yakov shouted Yurio’s name and with a grumble, Yurio followed him. Victor and Yuri were at last alone. Yuri continued to pick at the ice. Victor waited for him to speak first. 

“I’m sorry I left,” Yuri said softly. “I don’t really understand why I did, but I’m sorry that I did.” 

He finally looked up at Victor. He looked so uncertain. He looked like a man that Victor had once known and loved. Victor’s heart ached for a moment with that loss, but then he set the pain aside. It was in the past. 

“You remembered,” Victor said. His voice was soft, reverent, but his heart was pounding. 

Yuri nodded. He scratched at the back of his head. “Last night—when I came home. Look, I—” 

“I love you,” Victor said. 

Yuri’s eyes widened. 

“Forever and ever. No matter what. If I ever made you feel otherwise, I’m sorry.” 

Yuri made a small nod, and it gave Victor the courage he needed to continue. 

“And if you don’t want to be with me anymore, or if you want to go back to Hasetsu or anything, I understand. But for what it’s worth, I love you, and I’d be overjoyed if you let me…stay with you. And if you decided to stay with me.” 

Yuri’s eyes were lined with silver. 

“Really?” He croaked. 

Victor wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or maybe both. He grabbed the front of Yuri’s shirt and yanked Yuri forward. He kissed him. Beneath his hands, Yuri was as stiff and as cold for the ice for a second, and then he fell into the embrace. He kissed Victor back. Eventually, he pulled away. 

“I love you,” Victor said again. 

Yuri smiled. “Let’s win gold together, forever and ever,” he replied. 

And then he kissed Victor again, and his hands on Victor’s arms was all the kept Victor from flying away with happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Back together!  
> But not happily ever after just yet (unfortunately). 
> 
> A few chapters ago I mentioned that Yuri was getting impatient with me. Like, literally every time I opened up the word file for this it was "I want to get back together with Victor now," which was a problem for me because Victor had not come to terms with everything that happened. Like, the man was going to get a more solid foundation for Yuri still being in love with him. There was going to be a return to Yuri's old secret rink. Training session with just the podium fam! Victor finding Yuri's journal and asking about it and getting a straight answer and Yuri blushing a little!  
> But Yuri was seriously like "Yeah, nope, we're ending this sucker here and now."
> 
> So I did. He came home. He was sick. He got better. He changed his skate. They got back together. But Victor, well...
> 
> Me: Wow this is moving really fast  
> Victor: I agree  
> Me: How are you doing buddy?  
> Victor: This...this is actually happening, right? This is real?  
> Me: Yeah...  
> Victor: There's gotta be a catch.  
> Me: No catch babe.  
> Victor: He's left before. He's always leaving. He's going to leave again. Just wait.  
> Me: Honey, that's literally never going to happen.  
> Victor: I don't believe you. Like, I logically know you're right, but I don't believe you  
> Me: Oh, honey.  
> Victor:  
> Victor: You know that really cute, fluff-filled, cavity inducing short you were planning for Theia and Maria's wedding?  
> Me: Yes...  
> Victor: I'm gonna fuck it up.  
> Me: *gasp* Don't you dare. Don't you dare ruin my baby.  
> Victor: _But what about my character arc?_  
>  Me:  
> Victor:  
> Me:  
> Me: Fine. Just...how bad are we talking here.  
> Victor: I am not okay.  
> Me: Babe, you never are.  
> Victor: No, like, really, really not okay.  
> Me: Like, how not okay babe  
> Victor: You'll know pretty quickly. 
> 
> *later*  
> Me: *Writing That Kind of Feeling, barely 10 pages in.*  
> Victor: *Is severely not okay*  
> Me: Holy Shit honey somebody save my Sweet Summer Child.


	76. Epilogue: Forever and Ever

## 

Epilogue: Forever and Ever

“Yuri!” Victor called.  


With a groan, Yuri started pulling himself up from where he had fallen the ice during that last jump. At twenty-nine years old, he really was getting too old for this. The late afternoon sunlight streaming in through the windows glinted off the gold and diamonds of the rings he wore on his right hand. Nearly three years. That’s how long he and Victor had been married. Still, it sent a little thrill through him every time he thought about it or saw his rings.  


The one Victor had given him reminded him of all the stars that Victor had taken him to see in their time together.  


Yuri got to his feet and started skating again. Victor was at the other end of the rink. Even from this distance, Yuri could see that his husband was smiling; not at all worried about Yuri, or his balance, or the danger of falling.  


Three years. God, the time had flown by. In the end, he hadn’t just earned the one gold medal that Victor had asked of them when they first got engaged, but eight. He’d dropped them all around Victor’s neck when they had stood together at the altar.  


“In case you ever argue that I don’t deliver,” Yuri had whispered in Victor’s ear. He smiled at the memory.  


Phichit had presided over the ceremony; as soon as he found out that Yuri and Victor were once again planning on getting married, he’d found a way to get ordained online. And since they couldn’t officially get married in Japan or Russia, they’d had a private, unofficial ceremony in the rink. It had been nice. They’d gone to Barcelona for the honeymoon. It had felt right to return to the place where they had really started.  


Yuri reached Victor, and Victor reached out and brushed some ice off of Yuri’s face.  


“Hello, you,” Victor said. He followed it with a quick kiss.  


“I think this may be my last season,” Yuri said once Victor had pulled away.  


Victor sighed, but he didn’t look sad. Yuri’s figure skating career may be drawing to a close, but the two of them were barely getting started.  


“I think so too, _lyubov,_ ” Victor replied. One of his hands was still lightly resting on Yuri’s cheek.  


With a yawn, Yuri leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Victor. He rested his head on Victor’s shoulder. Breathed in the soft smell of their laundry detergent that clung to Victor’s clothes and the better smell of Victor himself.  


“Are you really that tired?” Victor asked. He had wrapped his arms around Yuri too. Yuri was silently reveling in their warmth.  


“I seem to recall that somebody kept me up late last night,” Yuri muttered into Victor’s neck.  


He loved the feel of Victor’s rumbling laugh vibrating through his body and beneath his fingers.  


“I don’t remember you complaining. Quite the opposite, actually.”  


“Shut up,” Yuri grumbled, pulling away. He kissed Victor lightly on the cheek.  


“I love you,” he said.  


Victor smiled, sweet and blissful. “I love you too.”  


Yuri turned around so he was facing the rink again and leaned back against the barrier and Victor. Victor kept his arms wrapped around him. He rested his chin on Yuri’s shoulder.  


“Yakov wants to retire,” Victor said. “He says he’s getting too old for all of this.”  


“What about Yurio?” Yuri asked.  


Victor’s arms moved up a little and then down again around Yuri as he shrugged. “He’ll have to find a new coach.”  


Yuri watched Yurio move around the ice. He was almost as tall as Yuri now, though he was just as much sharp edges and scowls as ever. Yurio had put off going to university, but Yuri knew he was thinking about it. He’d asked Yuri a few times about what Yuri had studied and how he’d worked classes around his practice schedule.  


“Do you think he’d let me coach him?” Victor asked.  


“No,” Yuri said honestly. “But he might let me.”  


He felt Victor’s head shift on his shoulder. Yuri looked down at him. Victor’s bright blue eyes, his lips, were inches away.  


“Why do you think that?” Victor asked.  


“Because he likes me better than he likes you.”  


Victor laughed softly. His breath tickled Yuri’s nose and cheeks. He kissed Yuri lightly on the lips.  


“I love you,” Victor’s whispered.  


“Forever and ever,” Yuri replied.  


He leaned in and kissed his husband, his forever love. And Yuri’s heart sang. 


	77. END NOTES

** Acknowledgements: **

It's kind of surreal to go through the google doc that Muse and I have for this now and see everything colored blue (which was the system I came up with to know what I had and hadn't uploaded yet). 

It's really, really been one wild ride. A little more than two months ago, got bored on break waiting to go back to school and for Voltron to come out. People were flooding my tumblr dash with YoI stuff so after talking to my best friend about whether or not it was "worth watching," I gave it a go. And it was. It really, really was worth it. I remember I finished it up and Voltron still hadn't come out, so I was moping so I was texting E Hayz and I was like "I have this idea for a fic but I don't know if I actually want to write it..."  


She laughed at me and told me that the concept was pretty good and to let her know if I actually gave it a shot.  
The next night around midnight, I got bored and cracked open my computer to start writing. The rest, as they say, is history. 

So I want to take the time to thank a few people. First and foremost, E Hayz without whom, I never would have written (and finished) this fic. As the first full length piece of writing I've ever done (that's right, I have a history of abandoning projects). I couldn't thank her enough for giving me the nudges I needed in the beginning.  


Second, Muse, who put up with the fact that I adamantly refused to watch Voltron until I had finished writing this sucker (that took weeks, by the way. Muse has the patience and grace of an angel) and who in the meantime watched Yuri on Ice. She then put up with me sending her snipets of writing as I went. She had to sit on the cliffhanger of Yuri being in the hospital for about a week. Again, patience and grace of an angel. She then _volunteered_ to edit and did so far more thoroughly than I expected. This would have been either a lot more error riddled or longer coming if it hadn't been for that.  


Thirdly, all of you fam. I love writing. I want to be a writer. I don't ever want to stop. But you're the ones who made writing and posting worth it. You're the ones who made me excited to get a new chapter up every day and kept me motivated throughout my school day because I got to talk to all of you in the comments. You've all made Muse's life better too, I know, and for that, we can't thank you enough. Thank you for sticking with me, I know I've put you through a lot, but I'm glad you decided it was worth it anyways. 

Last to note: I am (at present) almost done writing the companion, _That Kind of Feeling._ It should be done soonish, so remember to look out for it. I look forward to seeing you again when I start posting it. :) 

 

** Now, without further ado, here are some of the notes I had while writing this that I wanted to include in the event any of your were curious: **

First and foremost: Here is (most of) my playlist with all of the music that I listened to while I wrote or inspired me to write certain scenes. It goes (mostly) in chronological order with the plot. If you have questions about songs, leave comments: [Until You Return to Me Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/batmadge/playlist/7voCQZhdRkIGcNLeL8lnfK)  


Songs that didn't make the playlist (because I couldn't find them on Spotify) are the main theme from Leviathan by Phillip Glass, History Maker by Dean Fujioka, and [This Video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xVFqB-neMd4) which kept me in The Zone (TM) every night when I finished up writing. 

Yuri's Free Skate was to "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again" from the Phantom of the Opera. However, Theia edited the lyrics to better fit Yuri's story and lengthened the song to fit the required time frame. 

**** Edited Lyrics: ****

> You were once my one companion  
>  You were all that mattered  
>  You were once all I could hope for  
>  Then my world was shattered 
> 
> Wishing you were somehow here again  
>  Wishing you were somehow near  
>  Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed  
>  Somehow you would be here 
> 
> Wishing I could know your thoughts again  
>  Knowing that I never will  
>  Dreaming of you won’t help me to do  
>  All that you dreamed I could 
> 
> Silver frames with fading photos  
>  Posed upon the mantle  
>  Seem to me a false reflection,  
>  Should I know this person? 
> 
> Too many years fighting back tears  
>  Why can't the past just die? 
> 
> Wishing you were somehow here again  
>  Knowing we must say goodbye  
>  Try to forgive, teach me to live  
>  Give me the strength to try 
> 
> No more memories, no more silent tears  
>  No more gazing across the wasted years  
>  Help me say goodbye  
>  Help me say goodbye

Season Standings before the Grand Prix Finals were as follows:*

> Victor: 28 points (2nd, Rostelecom Cup; 1st, Cup of China)  
>  Yurio: 28 Points (1st, Rostelecom Cup, 2nd; NHK Trophy)  
>  Phichit: 28 Points (2nd, Skate America; 1st, Trophee de France)  
>  Yuri: 26 points (3rd, Skate Canada; 1st NHK Trophy)  
>  Beka: 26 points (1st, Skate Canada; 3rd, Trophee de France)  
>  Chris: 24 points (2nd, Skate Canada; 3rd, Rostelecom Cup)

*I have them for everyone else too, if you're interested.


	78. UPDATE!!!!!

Muse and I have finished editing! The companion, That Kind of Feeling, will be posted tomorrow. :)


End file.
